


The Ones Who Lived

by Alixe



Series: Harry Potter Book 7, 3/4 - English [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Aurors, Aurors' investigations, Famous Witches and Wizards, Friendship, Gen, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Politics, Post-Canon, Romance, Social Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2020-10-05 15:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 71,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20490791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alixe/pseuds/Alixe
Summary: PART I (1998 - 2002): How is the wizarding world rebuilt after the war? How does Harry become an adult? How do you become Auror when you are the Boy Who Lived? How to convert Ginny Weasley to marriage? Harry, his friends, his love, his career...





	1. The warriors' rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfiction fits into the plot of the “Harry Potter” saga by J.K. Rowling. The story covers the entire time period that was skipped over in book 7 – that is to say, the 19 years between the Battle of Hogwarts and the epilogue.
> 
> It also takes into account the elements that the author added to her story in the interviews. However, the majority of the text was written between 2007 and 2010, which explains why some elements, revealed later, could not be taken into account. This especially concerns of the revelations made in the play "The Cursed Child".
> 
> The text is already fully written and published in French and has been translated by Gwen that I thank for their huge work. Thanks also to Mica, who reread the text we offer here.
> 
> We hope you enjoy this story and take pleasure from following your favourite characters.
> 
> Warning: there is no big bad guy coming back in this story. I mainly focused on the return to normal of the wizarding world, the main characters’ careers, families and relationships, and the evolution of the wizard society. There will however be some action scenes, investigations, and problems to solve (but no unsustainable suspense).

# I – The Warriors’ Rest

3rd of May 1998

* * *

**Chronology**

  * 2nd of May 1998 : Hogwarts' battle

* * *

Harry examined Ron and Hermione, whose tired features and ripped clothes testified of the crazy day they had just had. It had started with their intrusion into Gringotts Bank, continued with a long battle to take back Hogwarts from the Death Eaters, before finding its conclusion in the one-to-one battle that had ended the reign of Voldemort.

Harry thought with nostalgia of his four-poster bed in Gryffindor tower.

“How about resting for a while in the common room?” he asked his friends. “We could ask Kreacher to make us sandwiches.”

Ron shook his head and whispered while avoiding the other’s gazes:

“I need to go home.”

Harry immediately felt ashamed not to have thought that Ron might want to join his family after the tragedy that had just hit them.

“Of course,” he said quickly. “We’re coming with you.”

They left the headmaster’s office and crossed the empty castle in a silence that contrasted with the racket of the battle that had been taking place only a few hours ago.

When they re-entered the Great Hall, there was no trace of the Weasleys or of the fighters that hadn’t been injured. A considerable part of the hall had been transformed into a spontaneous hospital wing and the professor’s platform was completely invisible behind a huge curtain. Harry guessed that this space was being used to keep the bodies of the fallen.

The three friends didn’t have time to consult each other to decide what to do next. From the place where the injured were resting, Horace Slughorn waved to them before joining them slowly.

“You’re awaited at the Burrow,” he told them. “Arthur managed to convince his wife not to destroy what rested of the castle to find you, but he told us to get you three home.”

“Thank you, Professor,” said Hermione politely. “Do you still need help here?”

“You’ve done enough,” smiled the Slytherin. “St Mungo’s also sent us a bunch of helpers. As for me, I’ll probably be setting off to go rest, and Professor McGonagall just left to her private apartments. So you three better be off! I really don’t want to be confronted to your mother again, Ralph. Who would’ve thought the last of the Prewetts could have so much style!”

“He’s called Ron,” Hermione corrected him a little less politely.

“Oh yes, yes, Ron,” repeated the Professor absentmindedly. “You can use this chimney,” he added, pointing to the huge fireplace of the Great Hall. “We connected it to the network for the evening.”

Before following his friends who were walking towards the green flames, Harry turned again to the Head of Slytherin House.

“Professor Snape’s body is in the shrieking shack, in Hogsmeade,” he said.

“The shrieking shack,” he repeated, seeming surprised that this information was told to him by the Boy Who Lived in person.

Harry considered for a moment to explain professor Snape’s real role during the war, but he was feeling so tired that he just didn’t have the courage. He simply nodded before turning away and shouting his destination into the chimney.

The burrow seemed unusually calm, drenched in the midday sunlight. There was no one in the kitchen, but a letter was on the table: _There’s cake in the cupboard. And afterwards: OFF TO BED!_

Ron smiled faintly and set off in a tired pace towards the stairs, followed by the two others. Hermione left the boys in front of Ginny’s room. She waved to her friends and disappeared. Harry would’ve liked to see whether Ron’s sister was okay and how she was dealing with her sadness. But he simply went to the next floor, following his friend. As soon as they arrived at their destination, both boys collapsed still fully dressed on the mattresses disposed on the floor, not even trying to chase away the ghoul that was still occupying the youngest Weasley boy’s bed.

*

It was sixteen o’clock when Harry was awoken by Ron, who was clumsily trying to climb over him to get out. He groaned with displeasure, stretching his painful limbs, and tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep again. But the remains of the dreamlike vision that was still floating in his head faded away, letting reality impose itself. Finally, Harry decided to stand up as well, hurried by his stomach that was crying of hunger.

When he entered the kitchen, Ron was being served a solid portion by his mother. Hermione seemed to be finishing hers, as well as Ginny. The latter was pale, but she smiled at Harry and gestured to the empty chair next to her. He obeyed and they looked at each other in silence, happy to finally be together again. Mrs Weasley placed eggs and bacon in front of Harry. With an apologetic look, he turned away from his sweetheart to eat.

“What are you planning on doing, now?” asked Ginny suddenly.

“Get myself a new wand,” groaned Hermione. “There’s no way I’m continuing to use the one that belonged to this…”

She didn’t pronounce the word, but her look towards Mrs Weasley reminded everyone of the qualifier which Molly had used to call the Death Eater yesterday during their duel.

“Afterwards,” continued the young girl, “I’ll go find my parents in Australia and bring them back here. And then, I hope I’ll be able to go back to Hogwarts to pass my NEWTs.”

“That’s a very good idea,” approved the Weasley mother in a hoarse voice. “You have to think of your future.”

Harry looked at her. With a blotchy complexion and a petrified face, she was evidently supporting herself with all her will to act normally.

“I’m not planning to go back to Hogwarts,” indicated Ron. “I’m eighteen now and I’m thinking of just finding myself a job.”

“But you need NEWTs for that!” protested his mother mechanically.

“Oh come on, Mum, Fred and George are successful enough without h…”

Ron stopped dead, horrified. Mrs Weasley’s face tensed and she closed her eyes, overcome with emotion. Ginny lowered her head and Harry and Hermione’s forks stayed suspended mid-air.

Breaking the unbearable silence, Hermione asked timidly:

“Where’s George?”

“He’s still sleeping,” whispered Mrs Weasley, her voice croaking with emotion. “I gave him a potion yesterday.”

She turned towards the sink, her shoulders trembling.

“And you, Harry?” asked Ginny, lifting her chin in a firm way, as if refusing to let herself be put down.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” said Harry cautiously, who felt tempted by Ron’s decision, but estimated that it wasn’t exactly the perfect time to reveal it.

Suddenly, he realised that he as well had family-related obligations.

“There’s someone I need to see today,” he informed them.

They were just finishing eating when George entered the kitchen, lifeless, his expression frozen, almost unrecognisable. His mother ran towards him and hugged him tight. He let her do while the four youngsters preferred to leave.

After a long shower, Harry observed himself in the bathroom mirror. His face and his arms were covered in halfway healed scratches, bruises and burns. He lifted his fringe to examine his forehead. His scar was still there, but white and thin, without any trace of inflammation. He ran his fingers over the grainy surface, but didn’t feel the slightest prickle. He thought with satisfaction that it would never hurt him again.

After all of them had washed, the four young ones met in the living room. Harry plunged his hand into the pot of Floo Powder and knelt down to ask for communication. Andromeda answered immediately and calmly accepted his proposition to visit.

When they emerged from the fireplace, she was waiting for them, the baby in her arms. Harry’s first thought was that he would never be able to confuse her with her sister again. Her hair had grown several grey streaks and the pained dignity of her expression created a clear contrast to her elder sister’s exaltation.

He smiled uncomfortably, not knowing how to formulate his condolences. He decided to start with the easiest:

“We haven’t yet been introduced to Teddy,” he said.

With a sad smile, she held the baby forwards, inviting Harry to take him into his arms. Instinctively, Harry stepped back, squashing Ginny’s foot. He had never held a baby before and didn’t really want the first one to take this risk to be his godson. He heard Ron sneer and felt his girlfriend push him firmly forwards. Understanding there was no way out, he extended his arms stoically. When the grandmother placed the child’s head against his right shoulder, he had the reflex to lift his elbow to stop him from sliding. Andromeda arranged Harry’s hands around the warm little body, then stepped away.

“Please, come in,” she invited them formally, gesturing towards the armchairs in the living room.

The two Weasleys and Hermione stepped forward, greeting her. Only Harry stayed like frozen in from of the chimney, too scared to move.

“You should sit down, he’ll fall from lower,” advised Hermione sarcastically.

Throwing her an annoyed look, he walked forward carefully and slowly bent his knees to sit down on the sofa. Finally, Hermione was right, he thought. Feeling the danger the baby was in diminish, he relaxed a little. He took the opportunity to look at him more closely. It was a beautiful chubby child with a bunch of amethyst-coloured hair on the top of his skull. The baby stared right back at him. Harry noticed his iris changing slowly from blue to yellow.

“Do his eyes always change colour?” he wondered.

“Only when he’s in the middle of discovering something,” pointed out the grandmother.

The child made a bunch of little noise, his arms and legs moving vaguely.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Harry,” the happy godfather introduced himself. “I hope we’ll see each other again often.”

As an answer, Teddy burped loudly and a little bit of milk trickled out of his mouth. Harry gulped and understood the purpose of the embroidered bib that was hanging around the baby’s neck. It had absorbed a part of the milk, but sadly not enough to save his sleeve from being flooded.

The only good news was that his dress had been borrowed from Ron.

“Does no one want to get to know him?” he asked in a plaintive voice.

Ginny seemed to take pity on him and came to unload her with a – or at least Harry thought so – surprisingly expert gesture. She started rocking the baby softly after having delicately wiped his mouth with his bib. Harry wondered where she had those skills from. Maybe she had seen her mother look after children of their friends.

Andromeda turned to Harry:

“I’m happy to see you in good health. Dora and Remus were very worried about you.”

“I… I’m sorry about…” stammered Harry, slightly embarrassed of being once again the Boy Who Lived.

The old woman’s expression dissuaded him from continuing.

“We gave everything,” she said with dignity, moving her gaze to the young Weasleys. “The only thing that counts is that we won. My grandson will be able to enter Hogwarts with his head high when the time comes.”

She looked in the direction of Ginny who was still cradling Teddy. The latter, curled up in her arms, seemed on the point of falling asleep.

“He’s really adorable,” whispered Hermione.

“I think it’s the first time we’re meeting,” realised Andromeda, looking at Hermione. “Dora and my son-in-law have told me so much about you that I feel like I really know the four of you. And now that things are starting to become normal again, what are your plans?”

Harry realised with horror that in the following days, everyone would ask them this question. It was one of the only conversation topics that were neutral enough to be addressed in this period of mourning.

“We’re probably going to finish our schooling at Hogwarts,” answered Hermione, as no one else seemed to be willing to talk.

“That’s a great way to get back into the normal course of your life,” approved Tonks’ mother. “And it’ll isolate you from everyone who’ll try to profit from your fame.”

Harry suddenly felt an immense love of learning grow inside him. Living in the castle while waiting for things to calm down suddenly felt very inviting. Especially if Ginny was also there.

They commented the latest news: Shacklebolt’s nomination as temporary Minister of Magic, the liberation of all muggleborns locked in Azkaban, the shortage of working wands. After half an hour of visit, the youngsters took leave and Teddy was carefully moved from Ginny’s arms to those of his grandmother. They left through the chimney, not without having softened a last time over the adorable image of Teddy sleeping soundly in his grandmother’s lap.

*

When they arrived at the Burrow, Molly was busy cooking for supper.

“I hope Arthur and Percy won’t come back too late,” she commented in a worried voice. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if they can’t eat with us, with all the work there is to do at the ministry. George is outside with his friend Lee who came to visit. A really nice chap, this Lee. Charlie is at Hogwarts. We heard on the radio that Hagrid need people to help look after all the creatures that were injured during the battle. Bill and Fleur might come by this evening. Ginny, can you help me with the vegetables?”

Ginny made a horrible grimace, but didn’t dare say no to her mother. Hermione, solidary, walked towards the pile of vegetables with her, gripping Ron’s arm to force him to help as well. Harry couldn’t do anything than follow the movement and drew his wand. The pile of potatoes and carrots didn’t resist the four youngsters’ peeling charms for long and they were soon done. They then set the table and found themselves with nothing to do, waiting for the vegetables to stop cooking. They went outside to enjoy the last little rays of sun of the day.

They stayed sunken in their own thoughts for a while until Ginny, who didn’t seem to stand the silence, shouted:

“Look what state the garden is in!”

Indeed, a bunch of gnomes had visibly exploited the time during which the Weasleys were all at Aunt Muriel’s to proliferate.

“Please don’t tell Mum, I don’t want to spend the whole of tomorrow degnoming,” grumbled Ron distractedly.

“Don’t complain,” retorted his sister. “Mom didn’t ask you a lot these last months.”

“It probably wasn’t very enjoyable at Aunt Muriel’s,” sympathised Hermione.

The young girl seized the occasion to say what she had on her mind.

“Oh, don’t remind me! It was horrible. I’d really have preferred going back to Hogwarts, even with the Carrawfuls.”

“The what?” asked Harry.

“That’s how we nicknamed the dreadful Carrow siblings. Dirty, stupid and cruel!” spat Ginny. “But as Aunt Muriel is a gossiping, vile bitch, living at her place wasn’t a lot better. I’m glad it’s finally over, Mom and her couldn’t stand each other anymore. Say, couldn’t you have attacked Hogwarts earlier?”

“We didn’t att…” started Harry.

“Ey! Did you think we were having fun?” Ron interrupted him, visibly annoyed by his sister’s remarks.

“Whatever you did, I would’ve preferred to be with you than with Aunt Muriel,” replied Ginny sharply. “But yeah, apparently I’m not old enough.”

The young girl had pronounced the words with bitterness, her eyes fixed on Harry, who suddenly felt very uneasy. Ginny was visibly mad at him for not having protested when Mrs Weasley had sent her back into the Room of Requirement the day before, considering she was too young to fight. He hoped that Ron would answer, which would change the target of Ginny’s anger, or that Hermione would manage to calm her down, but he found himself treacherously abandoned to his horrible fate:

“Come, let’s see whether the vegetable garden got any damage,” said his so-called best female friend, taking hold of Ron’s hand.

Harry watched them leave but as soon as they turned around the corner of the house, he didn’t have any excuse to dodge Ginny’s accusatory look.

“I love you and I didn’t want you to be injured,” he pleaded.

“I’m maybe only sixteen, but I’m capable of defending myself on my own. I thought I had proven it to you.”

“I know you’re extremely skilled, I never said the opposite. But your Mum…”

“Don’t take my mom as an excuse! If you had listened to her, you never would’ve left with Ron and Hermione!”

“Ginny, I know it’s been hard. You’ve been really brave by taking part in Hogwarts’s resistance and in trying to recover Gryffindor’s sword from Snape’s office. I missed you… I thought about you very often and I looked on my map to see where you were. I would really have liked that you were with me all this time, but… I couldn’t tell you everything. Dumbledore had forbidden me to confide in anyone except Ron and Hermione.”

“Well that’s convenient! Are you sure you missed me that much? You didn’t seem very happy to see me, yesterday.”

“Oh come on Ginny, Voldemort was coming…”

“Stop, Harry, and listen to me. Don’t you ever again treat me like a child that you need to exclude and protect. And never tell me you don’t want me to be with you under the pretext that it’s dangerous. I know I’m not the Chosen One, I know that I’m not even a hundredth as good as Hermione. But if you allow Neville or Luna to fight, don’t reject me. Because if that’s how you’re going to treat me, I don’t even want to be your friend!”

Harry opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say, flabbergasted by this fiery statement. He suddenly found her very beautiful with her cheekbones reddened and her eyes flaming, which didn’t help him retrieve his eloquence, rather on the contrary. It was with relief that he heard Mrs Weasley’s voice:

“Children, dinner’s ready!”

“Let’s go and eat,” said Harry quickly.

He saw anger and disappointment paint themselves on the young girl’s face. She pinched her lips and she turned away briskly to go back into the house at full speed.

The noise of Ginny’s footsteps was decreasing in the stairs in a furious staccato when Harry entered the kitchen. Cautiously, he decided to wash his hands in the kitchen sink rather than to risk sharing the bathroom sink with her. He was disconcerted by the young girl’s brisk change of feeling about him. But he remembered that he himself had been subject to very frequent mood swings when he had just lost Sirius.

“Hey, Harry! I think your hands are clean enough,” he heard Ron’s voice behind him.

Indeed, lost in his thoughts, he was scrubbing his hands frantically, definitely more than the basic hygiene required to. He moved away from the sink to let his friends also have a turn, trying to ignore Hermione’s inquisitive look.

While they were sitting down – Ginny trying this time to sit as far away from him as possible – George and Lee arrived. During the meal, Mrs Weasley updated them on the latest news she had heard on the radio during the day. In the morning, the new minister had abolished all the laws on blood purity. This decision had provoked a huge chaos at the ministry, which had been invaded by hundreds of wizards demanding to have their wands back. The journalists of the WWN[1] had relayed the official instructions: the plaintiffs were to leave their name and wait to be called back. All the cases would be treated as quickly as possible.

Those who had had to run away were invited to come back and to present themselves as soon as they could at their workplace. It was necessary for all stores to reopen as quickly as possible and to permit the administrative services to return to their normal activity. Healers in particular were called to rally St Mungo’s to look after the injured of the Battle of Hogwarts and those that hadn’t really supported their detention in Azkaban.

“I’m going to communicate these instructions on _Potterwatch_ this evening,” commented Lee. “I already made a call at noon. I’ll continue for several days, so that all the fugitives can hear it.”

“We listened to one of your emissions,” said Harry enthusiastically. “It’s amazing what you did. We laughed so much. It had been months since we last had so much fun.”

“It wasn’t only my idea,” said Lee modestly, nodding his head towards George sitting next to him.

The latter didn’t seem to be following the conversation. His head was resting on his elbow and he was absent-mindedly fiddling with his fork.

“You have to eat, my darling,” sighed his mother sadly. “You have to carry on, what do you want to do…”

Her voice broke.

“This evening, I’ll talk about Fred, Lupin and Tonks,” said Lee in a hoarse voice. “D’you wanna come and do the program with me, George?”

The latter shook his head, not even lifting his head.

“You don’t have to take the mic, but I would like you to be there,” pleaded Lee.

George continued to make circles with his fork.

“Who wants more vegetables?” asked Mrs Weasley when it became obvious that her son wasn’t going to answer.

Half an hour later, the chimney illuminated and Mr Weasley got out, looking worn out.

“Oh, my darling, finally!” shouted his wife. “Come sit down quickly, you look exhausted. It’s not reasonable to come home this late, you hardly slept this morning.”

“King didn’t sleep at all and he’s still there,” answered her husband. “There’s so much to do.”

“Leave that to the young ones, we’ve done our part.”

“I left Percy at the ministry with hours of work to complete. King doesn’t have a lot of people he can count on,” explained Arthur Weasley. “Even I have trouble determining which employees acted out of fear and which actually agreed with what was happening.”

“What happened to Umbridge?” asked Hermione.

“She and all those that actively wrote and published laws about blood purity have already been sent to Azkaban. They’ll have their trials as soon as possible. Or at least those that haven’t managed to flee. The snatchers in particular will be hard to capture. And Merlin knows what havoc they’re going to cause, now that they know they’re being tracked down.”

“The Aurors will catch them, don’t you think?” hoped Ron.

“Half the Aurors have been suspended,” sighed his father. “It’s another extra problem. King’s thinking of asking everyone who fought on our side yesterday to help. He’ll create a temporary army to keep order and to catch all the supporters of You Know Who’s regime.”

“Can we sign up?” asked Ron.

“No way!” answered his mother dryly. “You have to rest and then go back to Hogwarts.”

“Poor Ron that hasn’t reached the age limit,” said Ginny sarcastically.

“Should I talk about all this in tonight’s podcast?” asked Lee.

“Yes, that would be a good idea,” approved Mr Weasley. “The volunteers should present themselves directly at the ministry. We will also install a solidarity chain to help all those who need it. Oh! You can also inform your listeners that the funeral ceremony for the victims of yesterday’s battle will be held tomorrow at Hogwarts from thirteen o’clock. The name of all those killed this year through the wands of Death Eaters and their affiliates will be read.”

“OK,” said Lee. “I really need to go, now. I’ll be on the radio in fifteen minutes. You coming, George?”

The latter shook his head again.

“I suppose we’ll see each other at Hogwarts tomorrow, then,” concluded the journalist. “Goodnight everyone. Thank you for the meal, Mrs Weasley.”

“Don’t thank me, Lee, I’m the one to thank you for coming,” answered the Weasley mother. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

As soon as Lee disappeared in the chimney, George muttered:

“I’m going to bed.”

He climbed the stairs in a heavy pace. Harry realised it was the first time of the day he had heard his voice. He saw Mr and Mrs Weasley exchange a pained look. His shoulders hanging, Arthur sat down at the table. His wife quickly gave him a huge portion of food.

“Well, children, what did you do today?” asked the Weasley father, trying to sound cheerful. “Did you rest well?”

“Yes Mr Weasley,” answered Harry. “We slept till late. Then we went to visit Andromeda Tonks and Teddy.”

“The poor kid!” commented Mrs Weasley. “Only just a month old and already an orphan. And Andromeda who suddenly finds herself alone with such a load.”

“I’m his godfather,” pointed out Harry. “I hope I’ll be able to help her a little. I mean, as far as I can.”

“First he should learn how to hold a baby without letting his head hang down,” commented Hermione cheekily. “And not to shake him after he was fed. Teddy rejected most of his milk onto Harry’s sleeve.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” protested the young man.

“Raising a child means giving up to keep your robes clean,” sentenced Arthur wisely. “Just remember that certain chores are worth medals. But for you, obviously, medals won’t be what you lack the most. I don’t think you’ll be able to eschew the Order of Merlin, First Class.”

“Oh no,” groaned Harry.

“Poor Harry,” said Ron sarcastically.

“You risk getting one as well, you know,” his father told him.

“Are you serious?”

“Medals rain down after wars, Ron,” tempered Hermione. “We definitely won’t be the only ones.”

“But very few people can brag of having in one day broken into Gringotts, ridden a dragon and led the Hogwarts Rebellion,” pointed out Mr Weasley.

“How do you know we went to Gringotts?” wondered Hermione.

“It was in the newspapers this morning. You and your dragon didn’t quite go unnoticed in Diagon Alley. If you want to read it, I’ve got the article in the pocket of my cape.”

“But what on earth did you want in Gringotts?” asked Molly, while Hermione stood up to go fetch the _Daily Prophet_.

“It’s complicated,” Harry evaded the question, exchanging a look with Ron.

“About that,” said Arthur, “Kingsley’s coming tomorrow for lunch. He wants to talk to you. But don’t worry,” he added after seeing Harry’s expression, “if you don’t want to tell him anything, he won’t insist.”

“I suppose I’d rather talk to him than to his predecessor,” admitted Harry.

“We’ll see that tomorrow,” tempered Mr Weasley. “_Potterwatch _will be starting any time now.”

* * *

[1] Wizarding Wireless Network

* * *

**Chat with J.K. Rowling, 30th of July 2007**

_Teddy was raised by Andromeda. However, unlike Neville, who was also raised by his grandmother, Teddy had his godfather, Harry, and all his father's friends in the Order, to visit and stay with._

* * *

Thanks for reading. Feel free to leave comments. My English is poor, but I will answer as well as I can.


	2. Ceremony at Hogwarts

# II – Ceremony at Hogwarts

4th of May 1998

* * *

**Chronology**

2nd of May 1998 : Battle of Hogwart

* * *

When Ron and Harry walked down the stairs the next morning, Mrs Weasley’s eyes were red and puffy. Nevertheless, she was trying to act as though nothing had happened and she served them breakfast while talking just as much as usual. This forced cheerfulness was sad to see.

During the _Potterwatch_ of the last evening, Lee had rejoiced over Voldemort’s downfall and had explained the ministry’s instructions. Afterwards, he had presented himself under his real name, before indicating that he had had the idea of this radio network together with the Weasley twins. To finish off, he had announced Fred’s death and had held an obituary speech, then had done the same for Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin.

Harry had felt his eyes burning. He had discreetly wiped them, not daring to look at the others. He didn’t want to show his emotions or to interfere in the privacy of the Weasley family, even though he shared their sadness.

“I want Lee to talk about Fred at the funeral,” had whispered Mrs Weasley in tears, sobbing onto her husband’s shoulder.

Mr Weasley had hugged her tight, his cheeks also soaked in tears. Harry had quietly stood up to let them cry about their son in peace. Hermione had followed him up the stairs while Ron and Ginny were getting closer to their parents.

He was still wide awake, his eyes open in the dark, when Ron had come back and entered his now ghoul-free bed. Harry had stayed quiet, doubting how good he would be at comforting Ron as well as whether the latter would accept his pity.

*

Ron and Harry were finishing their breakfast when Charlie entered the kitchen.

“You’re already awake?” wondered his mother. “You came back so late yesterday…”

“There’s work to do at Hogwarts,” answered her son laconically.

Harry remembered that the funeral tribute to the victims of the war was happening there on the same afternoon.

“Maybe I should come along to help you,” said Molly.

“No, Mom, George needs you. It’s for him that it’ll be the hardest,” insisted Charlie while watching Ron as if he wanted to indicate him that he too would have a role to play in the mental rehabilitation of his brother.

After having finished their breakfast, Ron and Harry walked into the garden in silence.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked his friend timidly.

“Yeah, I guess,” answered Ron. “I don’t think I quite realise everything yet,” he confessed after a moment of silence. “So, how about we de-gnome this garden?”

Harry looked at him, flabbergasted.

“It would make Mom happy,” explained Ron.

When the boys re-entered the house a good hour later, Ginny and Hermione were helping Mrs Weasley with household tasks. They then started preparing lunch, watched by a still apathetic George.

Arthur arrived at 11:30, accompanied by Kingsley Shacklebolt whose face was grey with exhaustion. He let himself fall on one of the kitchen chairs and Mrs Weasley quickly brought him a full plate of hot, steaming food.

“Everything going well?” she asked.

“Not as quickly as some would like it to go,” grimaced the new minister.

“And it’s not those who took the most risks that are protesting the most,” groaned Arthur.

“It’s always like that,” said Molly in a calming voice. “Just do things at your speed and let the haters hate in peace.”

Shacklebolt had a disillusioned smile and turned his attention to Harry.

“Are you okay, my boy?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

The ex-Auror didn’t insist, but Harry understood that he had been hoping for a more detailed answer.

“You… you want me to tell you what I did this year while I was on the run with Ron and Hermione, right?”

“Only if you want to, Harry.”

“And only around those with whom you want to share your story,” added Arthur while moving slightly towards the door.

Harry looked at the people around him. Should he ask Molly, Arthur, George and Ginny to leave? None of them had ever betrayed him and they deserved to know Ron’s role in the victory. He also thought that Ginny would never forgive him if he told her to leave now. He could clearly read it in the menacing look she was casting on him.

“It’s fine, you can all stay.”

He took his time to think about what he wanted to reveal. He decided not to omit the Horcruxes and Deathly Hallows, but preferred not to give to many specifications on their behalf. He therefore explained that Dumbledore had given him the mission to destroy a few objects having belonged to Voldemort, which would contribute in definitely destroying the Dark Wizard. He narrated how he had lived for several weeks in Grimmaurd Place with Ron and Hermione and told them about their decision to infiltrate the ministry to recuperate the locket that was currently in Umbridge’s possession.

He then talked about their life as fugitives in the middle of the countryside, of their lack of clues to continue their mission. He preferred to skip Ron’s temporary departure and continued straight at their visit in Godric’s Hollow. He was surprised to remember very accurately his fear during the confrontation with Nagini and his despair when he contemplated the two pieces of his broken wand.

“A few days later,” he continued, “Snape sent me his patronus to show me where the sword of Gryffindor was. He knew that Scrimgeour wouldn’t give it to me, so he hid it in a place where I could find it. The one he had in his office was a fake,” he added, provoking a disappointed exclamation from Ginny’s part.

“Snape?” Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley asked at the same time.

“Yes,” confirmed Harry. “I later discovered that he had stayed loyal to Dumbledore and was doing his best to continue his fight to the end.”

“But he’s the one who killed Professor Dumbledore,” cried Molly. “You’re the one who told us, Harry.”

“It was planned from the start. Dumbledore was badly injured and didn’t have a lot of time left to live. He asked Snape to kill him on the first occasion that would present itself. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s the truth.”

“Okay, Harry, we trust you. Continue your story,” demanded Shacklebolt.

Molly, who was about retort something, closed her mouth while her husband frowned, not especially convinced.

Harry then explained how Ron had destroyed the locket. Then he talked about Xenophilius Lovegood, the Tale of the Three Brothers in Hermione’s book and explained the part of truth there was in this legend. Omitting Luna’s dad’s treason, he continued with their capture by Snatchers and their imprisonment in Malfoy Manor. He then narrated how Dobby had saved them, tragically dying in the process.

He continued with their collaboration with Griphook the goblin, the intrusion in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault in Gringotts and their escape on the back of the dragon. He mentioned the mental connexion that he had shared with Voldemort and explained how he had found out that the last object they were looking for was at Hogwarts.

“While people were starting to fight, we found it and destroyed it,” indicated Harry.

Shacklebolt looked at him intensely, but he managed to hold back the question that he was visibly burning to ask.

“After that, I went to confront Voldemort. I didn’t have a choice: that’s how it had to end.”

Molly shook her head as if she didn’t manage to convince herself that this kind of situation could exist.

Harry then explained how he had managed to survive the Killing Curse once more, being protected by his mother’s protection that was still active in Voldemort’s blood.

“I pretended to be dead so that I’d have a chance to kill him later. Narcissa Malfoy had been put in charge of checking that I was really dead and she lied to protect me. Voldemort then made Hagrid carry my supposedly dead body back to Hogwarts. You know the rest, I think.”

Harry stopped talking, waiting for the questions that probably would soon rain down on him.

“What I don’t understand,” said the minister in a doubting tone, “is how you managed to counter an _Avada _with an _Expelliarmus_.”

“His wand didn’t actually want to kill me. That’s what permitted me to send him back his own jinx.”

“And who tells us You-Know-Who isn’t going to come back again?” worried Arthur.

“We destroyed all the magical objects that tied him to life and permitted him to come back the first time,” assured Harry.

“I’m not quite sure I really understood this whole story with the wands. Was it really the one made by the Peverell brothers?” asked Shacklebolt.

“Yes, but You-Know-Who didn’t win it in the right way, which stopped him from becoming its Master. That’s what permitted me to beat him.”

“And who is this wand’s master, now?” asked Kingsley. “Is it really you, or did you lie to You-Know-Who?”

“Yes, it’s me, but I’m not really planning on using it. I repaired mine and I’ll hide the other. Like this, when I die, its power will disappear.”

“I don’t think it’ll be this easy,” objected Hermione, frowning. “But it’s not the moment to talk about it, I need to do my research first,” she concluded, which caused Ron to smile in a half- exasperated, half-loving way.

“If I understood you correctly, you have the Invisibility Cloak belonging to the famous Deathly Hallows,” resumed Shacklebolt. “Do you have any idea where the Resurrection Stone could possibly be?”

“No, I don’t know and I don’t want to know,” Harry stated firmly, as he didn’t remember where he had let it fall in the forest.

The minister finished his plate, continuing the conversation on more neutral topics for a while, but soon left after having thanked the Boy Who Lived for his narration and Molly for her hospitality.

“It’s time for us to eat as well,” remarked Mrs Weasley.

Everyone’s mood darkened, remembering their program for the afternoon. They ate in an almost complete silence, then went up to their rooms to change. Molly had prepared them carefully ironed black robes.

They met in the living room a few dozen minutes later. Molly was wearing a veil of black crepe to hide her red and puffy eyes. Her husband was wearing a dark hat that made him look a lot older than he was. As for George, every single part of his outfit radiated despair.

“Let’s go,” said Arthur simply, grabbing the pot of green Floo Powder.

The chimney of Hogsmeade Station had been selected to serve as a destination to all wizards and witches of the country coming to pay their last respects to the heroes that left their lives in the Battle of Hogwarts. Many families were walking on the road leading to the castle, all wearing black and a sombre expression. Only the quiet sound of gravel rolling under shoes and the muffled sobs of a few people interrupted the heavy silence that was lying on the alley. No one dared to raise their voice, preferring to whisper. When acquaintances met, they looked at each other in silence before hugging each other to share their pain.

They passed the gate protected by winged hogs, then approached the castle. On the bank of the lake, Harry could see a huge white cloth that was at least long of a few dozens of meters. It threw shade onto a long series of tables aligned in two rows. Harry was first reminded of the layout in the Great Hall for exams, before understanding and stopping suddenly, shocked. He heard Molly and Ginny break into tears. He would’ve liked to be able to do the same. Anything would be better than this oppressing weight squashing his chest and stopping him from breathing.

The tables were revealed to be altars of white marble on which rested bodies, already wrapped in burial shrouds. Harry had already seen the corpses of his friends on the evening of the battle, but being confronted with the totality of the victims in one look was upsetting. He tore himself away from the painful contemplation and walked away from the macabre view. Ron followed him, slightly green in the face.

A few metres from him, Harry saw Padma Patil with her parents. She was disfigured by a large bandage that was surrounding her head. He looked around for Parvati and found her next to Lavender whose arm was in a sling. The latter threw herself into Ron’s arms, who cast a panicked look at Hermione. But she didn’t make him any reproach. On the contrary, she in turn hugged Lavender, whispering her words of reassurance.

A few metres further, he saw the young Dennis Crivey, accompanied by his two parents who were wearing muggle clothes, seeming lost. He walked towards them.

“My name is Harry Potter,” he introduced himself. “Your son was in my house. All my condolences.”

“Harry Potter? He told us a lot about you,” answered Mr Crivey. “He admired you a lot.”

“Today, it’s me that admires him,” assured Harry.

“But how can he have died fighting?” wailed his mother. “He was only sixteen!”

“I’ve explained it to you, mom,” whispered Dennis in a weary voice.

Harry smiled uneasily and nodded to take leave. As he was returning towards the Weasleys, he saw a woman veiled in crepe walk towards him that he couldn’t have recognised if there wasn’t a baby in her arms.

“Mrs Tonks!” he shouted, walking towards her.

He couldn’t see her expression, but he sensed that she needed support. He carefully took Teddy from her arms. While he was still looking for something to say, Mrs Weasley rushed towards them.

“Oh, Andromeda!”

The two women fell into each other’s arms, sharing their pain.

Harry walked back, kissing the baby’s forehead. He juggled a little to find him a comfortable position. Finally, he pressed Teddy against him, letting the child’s chin rest on his shoulder.

“That okay for you, Teddy? Is the view nice up here?” asked Harry, while Teddy was raising his head to look over his godfather’s shoulder.

Teddy answered by drooling of happiness. Harry walked away from Molly and Andromeda to say hi to Luna who was walking a few metres away. But before he could reach her, he heard a voice that he had learnt to hate:

“Oh my, Harry Potter! But what do I see? What an a-do-ra-ble baby! Oh, well that answers my questions of what you were doing these last months. It seems like the great Harry Potter was rather focused on love than on war!”

“Rita Skeeter,” groaned Harry.

“Mr Potter, what effect does it have on you to become a father at only seventeen? Who is the mother? Are you married to her? Oh, but I think I see her come running! This dear Miss Perfect. Or should I rather say Miss Ex-Perfect? Where did you leave your aureole, my dear?”

“That’s enough,” bellowed Ron who was following Hermione.

“Ooooh, please excuse me, did I see this wrong? Are you jealous, Mr Weasley? Did you fight for the eyes of your beautiful or did you nobly stand back like a gentleman?”

Ron’s ears reddened, but it was Harry who reacted first. With his free hand, he grabbed the journalist’s arms and made her pivot towards the funeral canopy:

“If you want to talk to the baby’s parents, you’ll have to look for them there!” he snarled. “And I advise you to never say anything about mine again. I know enough to send you to Azkaban!”

“We made a deal!” she hissed. “I completed my part!”

“You made a deal with Hermione, not with me. Therefore, your little arrangements don’t concern me.”

“Is that a war declaration?” asked Rita Skeeter, lifting her chin.

“Only if you attack me or my friends,” Harry corrected her, looking straight into her eyes.

She let out a fake-sounding laugh.

“Oh, it seems like the last events have made your ego swell again. You take yourself seriously enough that I don’t need to make you additional publicity. If you’re on the front pages of newspapers, it won’t be my fault.”

“That suits me perfectly,” Harry replied dryly.

Rita turned away and walked off.

“What a bitch!” shouted Ron. “We should release mom on her.”

“I think she understood that she better leave Harry alone,” Hermione reassured them. “By the way, where did you find Teddy?”

“You usually find babies in cabbages, no?” Ron answered before his friend could say anything.

Harry and Hermione looked at him, surprised.

“Sorry,” said Ron in a crisped smile. “I can’t stand… all of this. And I know I’m not funny. Sorry.”

Harry realised with bother that his friend had tears in his eyes.

“You honour Fred by reacting like that,” said Hermione gently. “If he saw you, he’d be very proud of his little brother.”

“D’you think so?” asked Ron in an uncertain voice.

As an answer, Hermione hugged him hard and Harry decided that he had waited long enough to say hi to Luna. He found her a little further, accompanied by her father. Xenophilius had become very thin through his stay in Azkaban.

“Hello Harry! You shouldn’t carry this baby against your right shoulder, it can give you haemorrhoids.”

“How are you, Luna? Hello Mr Lovegood.”

“Hello, Mr Potter, I’m delighted to finally meet you,” answered the journalist politely, having visibly completely forgotten their last encounter.

“Where do you live now?” asked Harry, remembering the terrible state their house was in after the explosion of the erumpent horn.

“We’re living with some distant cousins,” Luna informed him. “But in any case, I’m going back to Hogwarts.”

“We’ll see each other in September, then.”

“HARRY!” cried out a gruff voice.

The Boy Who Lived only just had time to press Teddy into Luna’s arms before finding himself squashed inside the arms of a Half-Giant.

“Hagrid,” he croaked, trying to get his breath back.

“I’m so happy yer alive!” shouted the gamekeeper.

“Me too,” assured Harry. “I mean, that you and Graup are well,” he specified.

Hagrid turned towards Luna who was pulling faces to the baby:

“Gallopin’ Gorgons, that’s the little Teddy, isn’ it?” he recognised him. “His two parents dead, what a tragedy, eh?”

With a surprising softness, he lifted the child out of the young girl’s arms.

“Finding yerself alone so young,” he sighed to the baby. “You remember, Harry? You was no older than that when I came ter fetch you the first time…”

Tears stopped the half-giant from continuing.

“I only have vague memories of that day,” admitted Harry. “But I know I was lucky to come across a man like you.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud carillon, then professor McGonagall’s voice resonated:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the funeral service is about to start. You can sit down near the entry to the castle.”

Harry retrieved Teddy from the gamekeeper’s arms and followed the crowd that was walking obediently to the indicated place. Hundreds of chairs were waiting for them, like at Dumbledore’s funeral. Harry located the Weasleys and decided to join them.

He noticed that many people were turning around when he walked past or nudged each other to point out his presence. He pretended not to see anything, but he wondered what they were thinking of the baby resting on his shoulder. He decided that he didn’t care.

Bill, Fleur, Charlie and Percy had already joined Arthur, Molly and Ginny. Harry sat down next to Andromeda who had stayed with Molly. As she made no move to take back her grandson, Harry installed Teddy comfortably on his lap. After two tries, he managed to prop him in a way that he wouldn’t slide off. Hermione nodded with approbation when she and Ron arrived to sit down next to him.

When everybody had sat down, Kingsley Shacklebolt joined the Professor of Transfiguration on the stage that was in front of the public and started:

“The last year has been stressful for all of us. Imposters took the power and villainous laws have been voted. Innocents have been thrown into prison and peaceful citizens had to flee. Honest workers have lost their job and children have been refused the right to education. When leaving each other in the morning, families didn’t know whether they would meet again in the evening.”

Around him, Harry saw couples look at each other, parents checking that their children were still with them. He thought of Mr and Mrs Weasley that had stayed for months without news of their youngest son. Suddenly, Ginny’s bitterness seemed a lot more understandable.

“We lived in fear and in shame. But some of us reacted. Acts of resistance took diverse forms: simple silences often saved lives; documents that a Ministry of Magic employee conveniently lost permitted some to escape the fate that had been awaiting them; families accommodated complete strangers; portkeys to other countries have been supplied; an undercover school was created; protection charms were used on neighbouring muggle houses; an illegal radio network gave hope to many despairing wizards and witches.

“When a rumour announced that Hogwarts was going to rebel, there were many who answered the call and came to fight. Professor Dumbledore didn’t die in vain, because Hogwarts, despite the refusal to take in some students, despite the cruelty used against the schoolkids, despite the presence of Death Eaters in its walls, Hogwarts stayed a symbol of resistance and rebellion against tyranny. For many, take back Hogwarts was worth all fights and battles and all sacrifices.

“Fifty-three wizards and witches gave their life for this goal to be achieved. Several dozens of others were injured. They add themselves to all of those that were assassinated this year under the orders of this illegitimate government.

“Today, we mourn our dead. But as soon as tomorrow, our justice will have at heart to punish every single one of those who have subjected us to all of this. But our priorities for the next days will be to rebuild. Rebuild our society by resuming our functions and jobs as soon as we can. Rebuild our community by sharing what we have so that the unluckiest of us don’t stay helpless.

“As you all probably know, countless wands have undeservedly been confiscated. Ollivander’s shop having been pillaged, it will take us time to solve this problem. Until we find a solution, help all those that are deprived of magic. Give, share and forget these months of fear and suspicion. It’s the best way to honour the memories of those you are mourning today and to make sure they didn’t die in vain!”

Shacklebolt stepped back. Minerva McGonagall immediately started speaking, interrupting the whispers of the public:

“I will now read you the list of the victims. Few of you knew them all. But I did. Every name is to me the name of a child that I saw grow up and whose personality’s development I observed. For everyone I feel a huge pride and a profound sadness.”

The Vice-Headmistress cleared her throat and started:

“Ackerley, Melissa, assassinated as she was opposing herself to her husband’s arrest. Bundy, Melanie, cowardly delivered to the dementors. Crivey, Colin, fallen to deliver Hogwarts.”

The list continued similarly for long minutes. Harry recognised names of goblins, elves and centaurs, which pleasantly surprised him. He swiftly looked around him and found several groups of non-humans, huddled together in the mass of wizards and witches.

In the middle of this slow litany, he heard: _Lupin, Nymphadora, fallen to deliver Hogwarts. Lupin, Remus, fallen to deliver Hogwarts._ Then: _Tonks, Ted, killed by Snatchers_. And lastly: _Weasley, Fred, fallen to deliver Hogwarts_.

A long silence followed, broken only by a few muffled sobs here and there. To conclude, professor McGonagall announced:

“We are staying at your disposition to proceed to the recovery of the bodies for a funeral. You can now spend time with your loved ones if you wish.”

The crowd stood up slowly to return to the funeral tent, commenting on the ceremony quietly. Harry heard several people wonder why no one had mentioned Harry Potter. _Because I didn’t die_, he wanted to retort. He was thankful to Kingsley for not mentioning him. Today was a day of mourning and it was the victims that should be thought of.

This time, he supported the view over rows of bodies a lot better. Teddy’s warm body had a comforting effect on him and he had the courage to go closer. At the feet of every corpse, the identity of the deceased was written in golden letters.

In the movements of the crowd, Harry had lost the Weasleys and Andromeda, but he knew where they had been planning on going. He followed the altars, reading all the names.

“Let’s say goodbye to your mom and dad, okay Teddy?”

The baby was still drooling serenely, which Harry decided to interpret as a positive answer. Remus’s and Nymphadora’s bodies were lying side by side. He stopped on the patch of grass situated between the two corpses.

“We won, in the end,” he said quietly. “I would’ve preferred you to still be by my side, but we can’t do anything about it, now. As you can see, Teddy and I get along with each other quite well. I’ll never be able to replace you, but I promise you to do my best so that your child will never feel alone, will always know he has a family that loves him and that his parents fought to give him a peaceful future.”

“Thank you, Harry,” he heard Andromeda’s trembling voice.

She was standing directly behind him, surrounded by Molly Arthur Weasley.

“Oh! I… Well, we’ll see what Teddy says about it in a few years,” he stammered.

Andromeda, still hidden by her veil, nodded her in his direction, then turned to the body of her daughter. The Weasleys stayed a moment next to the corpses of Remus and Tonks before leaving in small groups. Molly softly told the grieving mother:

“We’re going to our boy. Don’t hesitate to come and join us when you’re done.”

“Could you maybe keep Teddy for a while?” the grandmother asked Harry, tearing herself from her contemplation.

“Yes, of course.”

“Here’s his bag. There’s his blanket and his bottle. You need to use a heating spell and…”

“Don’t worry, Andromeda, we’ll explain everything to him,” said Molly in a calming voice.

Fred was the last of his row. Bill and Fleur were supporting George, with Percy directly behind them. Ginny had taken refuge in Charlie’s arms and Ron was gripping Hermione’s hand. Mrs Weasley let go of her husband’s hand to walk forwards and, with a mechanical gesture, smoothed the shroud to let it fall better.

Harry mourned with them. Suddenly, Teddy, who until now had always been very calm, started to wriggle then started to cry. Harry, after trying to change his position, threw a panicked look around him. Hermione abandoned Ron and came to help him. He showed her Teddy’s bag that was lying at his feet. She picked it up and they walked a few metres away.

“Maybe he’s hungry,” diagnosed Hermione.

“He also especially stinks,” grimaced Harry. “I suppose we’ll have to change his diaper.”

“Don’t forget you’re a wizard, Harry,” replied Hermione, rummaging in the bag. “We don’t change nappies here, we clean them… Ah, here it is!”

She pulled a little blanket out of the bag and spread it on the grass.

“Put him on here,” she ordered. “You can lift his robe and open his diaper.”

“Uh…” said Harry.

“You’re the godfather,” insisted Hermione.

Pinching his nose, Harry opened the buttons that were keeping the cotton square around the baby’s hips.

“Now, you’ll have to use an _Evanesco_ on the dirty places,” continued the young girl, as if reciting a page she had read in a book. “As if you were cleaning your cauldron at the end of the lesson,” she added, seeing Harry hesitate.

Harry decided to trust Hermione’s theoretical knowledge and sighed with relief when he noticed the efficiency of the procedure.

“Now, you just need to close the whole thing,” finished Hermione in a tone that sounded just as relieved.

It was easier said than done, as Harry didn’t remember in what order he had opened the buttons nor to which buttonhole they corresponded. And that was without counting the fact that Teddy still hadn’t calmed down and seemed more and more angry. His godfather finally managed to dress him back approximately.

During this time, Hermione had continued rummaging through the bag. She had finished by taking out a baby bottle which she heated with a simple spell. She had to try several times before she got it to a temperature she found acceptable.

“Give him this,” she ordered.

“But how?” panicked Harry.

“I suppose he’ll know what to do. All you need to do is to manage to get the nipple into his mouth.”

Harry, kneeling on the grass, shoved the bottle into the squealing cavity of his godson. After several surprised gurgles, Teddy started to drink with appetite. Never before had Harry appreciated silence that much. He realised that he was drenched in sweat and that his legs were trembling with anxiousness.

“One day, you’ll have to explain to me how you manage to be so calm when we’re in a complete catastrophe!” he grumbled to Hermione.

“I just concentrate on the solution,” she shrugged.

She closed the baby’s bag and sat down comfortably on the grass. Making sure he didn’t accidentally separate Teddy and his meal, Harry sat down cross-legged. When his heart had reached its normal rhythm again, he decided that he could be proud of his overall performance. He didn’t cope too badly as a godfather.

Finally, Teddy arrived to the end of his collation. Harry passed the baby bottle back to Hermione so that she could stow it into the bag and took the child into his arms. The baby burped loudly, spluttered onto the young man and yawned.

“He’s probably going to fall asleep. D’you want me to take him for a while?” offered the young girl.

“That’d be great! But why did he vomit on me again?”

“_Evanesco_,” advised Hermione pragmatically, taking the child from his arms.

* * *

**Chat with J.K. Rowling, 30th of July 2007**

  * _Colin wasn’t a student. He sneaked back with the rest of the DA, along with Fred, George and the rest. He ought not to have stayed behind when McGonagall told him to leave, but alas – he did._
  * _I imagine that it [the resurrection stone] was squashed into the ground by a centaur’s hoof as the centaurs dashed to the aid of the Hogwarts fighters, and thereafter became buried._


	3. Diagon Alley

5 – 6th of May 1998

* * *

**Chronology**

2nd of May 1998 : Battle of Hogwart

* * *

The group left Fred’s body and walked up the rows of deceased. They expressed their sorrows for everyone they had known and exchanged condolences with the families they walked past. Twice, journalists addressed Harry, wishing to interview him. The young man dryly replied that he was here to mourn his friends and not to answer questions.

At last, their painful pilgrimage came to an end and they returned to the Burrow, accompanied by Andromeda. Harry hadn’t really had the occasion to take back Teddy, who had been passed from arm to arm, as if holding this promise of life helped the survivors to support the empty space left back by those that had left them.

The next morning, they met in the small graveyard of Ottery St. Catchpole, where the Weasleys buried their son. A lot of people were there. Everyone from Fred and George’s year at Hogwarts were present, including Angelina Johnson collapsed in Alicia Spinnet’s arms. Oliver Wood, Minerva McGonagall, people the twins had met while running their joke shop, those they had met when hiding during the Year of Darkness, members of the Order, Arthur’s colleagues and Molly’s acquaintances were also there. Harry was surprised to also see Fleur’s parents. He appreciated the fact that they had taken the time to travel to England to show their support of their son-in-law’s family. Aunt Muriel had also joined the mourning. True to herself, she walked from group to group, gossiping non-stop.

Without hesitation, Harry took his godson out of Andromeda’s arms, letting the latter walk towards Ginny who was supporting her mother. Harry’s heart ached when he looked at the three women united by the tragedy they had experienced.

He felt gross and clumsy in front of so much pain. He didn’t know Andromeda well enough to know what to tell her, and for Molly, he felt vaguely responsible for having started the battle that had killed her son. As for Ginny…

Ever since she had told him what she had on her chest – her coldness towards him had showed how much she was mad at him –, he didn’t dare have the slightest gesture of reassurance towards her. He was scared to be intrusive, to be rejected. He knew that real friends shouldn’t stop just because of the risk of being rebuffed, but he didn’t trust himself and was scared to just cause her more pain with words that would seem importunate to her.

Silence fell when Arthur, Bill, Charlie and George apparated into the graveyard, carrying Fred’s coffin on their shoulders. They slowly let it levitate into the tomb that was waiting for him and everyone joined around the gaping hole. Lee started to talk:

“Everyone who was at Hogwarts at the same time as Fred and George simply couldn’t forget their names. They were associated with the best jokes, to the biggest laughs. They were funny, but always without being mean. They managed to let the comical side of every situation come out and their puns always let even the most serious of conversations seem ridiculous.

“They also managed to show that they were more than just some old jokesters. When the ministry sent their inquisitor to Hogwarts, they decided to use their talent in an offensive manner. These last months, their shop has served as a secure base for different traffics and as a hiding place for fugitives. In parallel, they animated with me the only radio network that wasn’t controlled by the ministry.

“You might be wondering why I’m also talking about George, who’s still here among us. Well, because the Weasley twins have always been inseparable and it’s impossible to talk about one without mentioning the other. Most of you were incapable of differentiating them. Their complicity and complementarity were their trademark. For this reason, I do not only mourn the death of my friend Fred. I also mourn the part of George that died at Hogwarts and that he’ll never find again.

“Farewell, Fred. George, we’ll always be there for you.”

Lee grabbed a spade that was lying next to him and threw the first shovelful of earth into the tomb. He stepped back, handing the spade to Arthur Weasley so that he could repeat the action. The latter had to try several times, as his hands were shaking horribly. The whole assembly copied them, everyone waiting for their turn in silence. While the ceremony was coming to its end, Teddy suddenly started whining, bringing all attention to him. Harry quickly solved the problem by sticking his baby bottle in his mouth, completely forgetting to warm it up, which didn’t seem to disturb the child. This didn’t stop Aunt Muriel from complaining loudly to Mrs Delacour:

“It’s a disgrace to bring such a young infant to a ceremony like this! A lack of consideration for the deceased in the family! These days, people don’t know the definition of respect anymore.”

“But babeez are so cute,” the beautiful Apolline answered placidly.

*

There were much fewer people around the flagstone that was going to accommodate Tonks and Remus. Only the Weasleys, the members of the Order, a few Aurors, friends of Andromeda and Kingsley Shacklebolt were present.

It was the latter who spoke the funeral eulogy of the couple in his slow, baritone voice:

“For those who make do with a superficial glance, this couple could seem badly matched because of their age difference and social environment. Remus, who had become grave and serious because of his condition of werewolf, and Nymphadora, a hyperactive, clumsy and cheerful Auror... These superficial descriptions aren’t enough to express what they really were. The story of her family and of his lycanthropy made them the target of prejudice and mockery. This didn’t stop them from feeling greatly attached to their community. Remus engaged in fighting against You-Know-Who as soon as he left Hogwarts. Tonks chose to become an Auror. They had the same values and they got close despite everything that could have separated them. When Hogwarts called for help, none of them could stay back. They went to fight, and only the most ferocious of Death Eaters managed to stop them.

“Despite the sadness that I feel for the young orphan they left behind them, I’m happy that they could feel the joy of giving birth to a child and that they showed by this existence the faith they had in the future. The little Teddy cheered up their last weeks and I’m certain that the hope to see him grow up in a better world was the centre of their determination to take back Hogwarts.”

He paused, visibly fighting against his emotions. After having cleared his throat, he continued:

“A wizard and a witch of merit left us. They’ll be missed by Teddy; they’ll be missed by Andromeda; they’ll be missed by their friends. We’ll all keep in ourselves the image of Remus’s modest courage, of his sense of duty and selflessness. We’ll keep in mind the laughs that were created by the girl who called herself Tonks. Under her blunders and clumsiness was hiding a discreet humour, a surprising lucidity and a professionalism that earned her the respect of her colleagues.

“Farewell Remus. Farewell Tonks.”

As for Fred in the morning, it was the public that buried the two corpses. Once again, Mrs Weasley insisted to Andromeda to stay with them after the ceremony. But Teddy’s grandmother, rigid from keeping in her grief, declined the invitation and preferred to go home. Molly nevertheless managed to convince her to let them keep the baby so that she could rest a little.

When they arrived back at the Burrow, it was five o’clock in the evening. Harry suggested to Ron and Hermione to go and sit down in the garden. While his friends were preparing to follow him, he tried to meet Ginny’s eyes to include her in his invitation. But she had dropped into an armchair, looking into space, Crookshanks on her lap. She visibly didn’t want to talk to anyone at all. Harry gave up on trying to solicit her.

They sat down on the grass, spreading Teddy’s blanket on the floor and letting him lie on it. Harry plucked a poppy out of the grass and waved it above the baby who tried to catch it, laughing.

“I’ve been reading the news lately,” declared Hermione. “Should I give you a summary of what’s being said?”

“Why not?” answered Harry, while Ron was lifting his head, interested.

“Prepare yourself to be considered as a powerful wizard, Harry,” she warned him. “I don’t think a lot of people understood this story of a protection left by your mother, and everyone is persuaded that it’s only due to your powerful magic that you managed to send back Voldemort’s spell.”

“Fantastic,” groaned Harry, tickling the baby’s nose with his flower.

“Let’s not complain about it,” replied Hermione. “They also didn’t understand much of your speech about the Elder Wand, and that’s definitely a good thing. The official version is that with a simple _Expelliarmus_, you can drive away even the most powerful of jinxes. That’s not too bad. Just think that now, no one’ll ever dare to use curses on you.”

“If it permits me to be left in peace, I won’t ask more,” admitted Harry.

“The _Daily Prophet_ wrote a beautiful front page about yesterday’s ceremony,” she continued, showing him the article.

On the main picture, you could see Harry listening to Kingsley and McGonagall’s speech. He had Teddy on his lap and Andromeda was sitting next to him, her black veil covering her face. The title proclaimed: **_Harry Potter, alongside the widow and the orphan_**.

“Should I laugh or cry about it?” wondered Harry. “Hey, Teddy! How does it feel to be famous?”

As an answer, the little boy sneezed.

“Let’s say that it could’ve been worse. Imagine the title saying _Harry Potter and his hidden son_,” commented Ron. “At least, that Rita bitch kept her Quick Quotes Quill out of the story.”

“I also found an extremely bizarre tale of our visit to Gringotts,” continued Hermione.

“I always wonder why people can’t stop themselves from exaggerating!” cried out Harry who considered his life worse than an adventure novel.

“You don’t have any journalistic sense,” his female friend reproached fondly. “Telling people that the dragon didn’t even notice that we were on his back doesn’t make any sense. Describing it spitting flames and trying to throw us off its back is a lot more sensational.”

“Do they know what we were looking for?” worried the Boy Who Lived.

“No, they get lost in guess work. Some hypotheses are funny and others are, well, less funny. The Prophet is wondering whether Voldemort himself was possibly hiding in the underground vaults of Gringotts, which implies that the goblins rallied themselves to him. They never miss an occasion to put non-humans down.”

Both boys grimaced at the same time.

“I’m happy that Kingsley Shacklebolt is our new minister,” Hermione tried to look on the bright side. “He’s very open towards other species and maybe he’ll manage to bring change to the way they’re being treated.”

“It’s time to do something for the house elves,” said Ron, very obviously sucking up to her.

“Don’t try too hard, Ron,” Hermione advised him sarcastically, nevertheless leaning herself affectionately on his arm, to the young man’s satisfaction.

While tickling Teddy’s stomach, Harry turned away and looked at the house, his thoughts returning to Ginny. He worried: would she one day ever consider him as someone she was close to again? He could still hear her last accusatory sentence in his head: _Because if that’s how you’re going to treat me, I don’t even want to be your friend!_

What could he do to let things arrange between them? He wondered where the book about how to talk to women – the one that Ron had given him to his birthday – was. Probably still in his friend’s bedroom, he concluded, as it wasn’t very likely that Hermione had considered it important to take along. It was probably still exactly there where he had left it ten months ago. He considered going and looking for it when he saw Bill and Charlie exit the Burrow and walk into their direction.

“Can we talk to you, Ron?” asked Bill.

“Of course,” answered the latter in a surprised tone. “I’ll see you later,” he told his friends, standing up.

They walked a dozen meters away and were soon immersed in a very serious discussion, judging by the looks on their faces.

“So what’s going on between you and Ginny?” Hermione asked Harry, who grimaced, annoyed by her acuteness.

“Is there supposed to be anything going on between us?” he tried to skip the question.

“Oh come on, I’ve noticed she’s always avoiding you,” continued Hermione without letting herself be discouraged.

“She just lost her brother, it’s normal that she gets closer to her family,” improvised Harry.

Hermione didn’t answer, and Harry concluded that she wasn’t any more convinced by the explanation than he was.

“I don’t know what she wants from me,” he ended up by sighing. “She’s mad at me and I don’t know what to tell her.”

“I think she just wants you to apologise for not agreeing with her when her mother tried to stop her from participating in the battle. And that you recognise that she fought well and that she was right to think that her place was with the Hogwarts defenders.”

“I can’t tell her that. I hated seeing her fight against Bellatrix. She could’ve died.”

“I also fought and I also could’ve died, but that doesn’t stop you from sleeping at night.”

“But you’re very talented at magic!”

“So is she, Harry. She’s very good at duelling; she’s already proven it to you two years ago at the Ministry.”

“But she’s underage!”

“So is Luna. Despite that, she overcame her imprisonment at Malfoy Manor and she fought in the battle without you worrying about it.”

“It’s not the same thing,” replied Harry, wondering how to end the discussion.

“The only difference is that you’re not in love with me or with Luna.”

Harry didn’t find anything to answer to this argument. Teddy, probably thinking that he was being ignored, started to whimper, and the young man used the occasion to turn away and to take him into his arms.

“She had to support the solicitude of six older brothers, Harry,” Hermione insisted with tenacity. “She had to fight to impose herself, to play Quidditch, to show what she was really worth. What she needs is someone that lets her live her life without interfering and who is proud of her qualities, instead of blaming her for them or pretending they don’t exist.”

“I don’t pretend they don’t exist,” Harry answered, offended.

“She broke up with Michael Corner because he was mad at her for winning at Quidditch, she broke up with Dean because he spent his time overprotecting her,” Hermione reminded him, ruthless. “It’s up to you to see what you’re ready to do to let her stay with you.”

She dropped down on her back to look at the sky, letting him think about her words. Harry, who didn’t really feel like ruminating his friend’s advice, started to clean Teddy’s diaper, which was once again completely soaked. He was just finishing dressing him again when Ron joined them, his expression grave. He didn’t seem like he wanted to talk, and they stayed there in silence until Molly came to ask them to dress the table.

*

Arthur, who had returned to the ministry with Percy after the Lupin’s funeral, resumed them the current situation while they were eating dinner.

“The wand shortage is almost over,” he declared with visible relief. “We found the place where the stolen ones were stored. They’ve all been labelled, which will considerably help us to redistribute them to their true owners. We can also use those whose owners died during the last year as well as those confiscated from the remaining Death Eaters that were arrested on the battlefield. All of these wands have been entrusted to Ollivander who has now reopened his shop. You’ll be able to go there as soon as tomorrow, Hermione.”

Harry wondered who was going to inherit of Fred’s wand.

“In parallel,” Arthur continued, “we’ll import some from France and England for the start of the school year.”

“About that, Mr Weasley,” asked Hermione, “Kingsley Shacklebolt mentioned an undercover school, yesterday. What was he talking about?”

“At the beginning of the school year, when a big part of the students couldn’t go back to Hogwarts due to their muggle ancestry, one of the parents decided to teach his daughter himself. He thought of letting other children with the same situation come as well, and through mostly mouth-to-ear, a considerable number of parents managed to send him their children through illegal portkeys. That’s how Mr Brocklehurst found himself with a good fifty students.”

“Why couldn’t I go?” protested Ginny.

“They couldn’t contact me as I was being watched precisely, and later you couldn’t leave from Aunt Muriel’s,” answered her father calmly. “It was too risky considering your brothers’ activities.”

“Yeah, everyone was allowed to take risks except me,” groaned Ginny.

Hermione threw Harry a significant look, who pretended not to have seen anything.

“Your parents told me this morning that they’ll organise a transport back for all the families they took in charge at their arrival in France,” continued Arthur, turning to Fleur.

“The Delacours hosted English wizards?” asked Harry, surprised.

“A lot of people underestimated the danger here and were hesitating to leave everything for the unknown,” explained Mr Weasley. “Mr Delacour offered us his help by offering to find a home and a job for those we’d send to him. We organised the portkeys and Victor and Apolline did the rest.”

“Grand-papa deed ze same at ze time of Grindelwald,” commented Fleur, shrugging her shoulders as if it was a perfectly natural thing to do.

Arthur concluded his presentation by complaining about the difficulty they were having to catch the Snatchers who had done so much harm.

“The problem is that they were acting separately from the Ministry and we don’t have any kinds of official lists. We only have testimonials of others that have recognised them.”

“Isn’t that enough?” wondered Hermione.

“Not everyone is reliable. We’ve been receiving tons of anonymous letters denouncing people as fervent Death Eaters, even though they were in Azkaban during that time or even fought on our side at Hogwarts. At the ministry, it’s not a lot simpler. We can only imprison those who actively contributed to the application of laws of blood purity. Those who were in unconcerned services, even if they declared themselves very favourable to the new systems, won’t be submitted to trial.”

“Why not?” asked Harry.

“Because a democratic movement can’t arrest people only for their opinions,” answered Hermione. “We can only judge acts. It maybe feels unfair, but the contrary would be even worse.”

The whole family meditated these words in silence during dessert.

*

After dinner, Harry brought Teddy back to Andromeda’s house. She kissed her grandson and hugged him tight, thanking Harry to look after him so well.

“I just want to give him what I didn’t get,” stammered Harry.

“It’s a great comfort for me to know that you’re there for him,” she assured him. “Well, it’s time to bring this young lad to bed,” she concluded, and went off to the bedroom, while Harry went back to the chimney.

Back at the Burrow, he tried in vain to discreetly talk to Ginny, but the young girl was always in the company of some other family member, and Harry had no occasions to take her aside to talk to her alone.

Ever since his discussion with his brothers, Ron hadn’t lost his concerned look. Harry was about to question him while they were going to bed, when his friend asked suddenly:

“Would you be mad at me if I didn’t go back to Hogwarts with you?”

Harry thought for a few seconds before answering:

“It’s not up to me to decide whether or not you need to get your NEWTs.”

“That’s not what’s really important,” sighed Ron, buttoning his pyjama robe absentmindedly.

“What is really important?”

“We’re worried about George,” said Ron gravely. “It would be better if he restarted some kind of occupation instead of staying… like that.”

George, apathetic and unrecognisable, seemed to hardly realise what was going on around him. Rather on the contrary, everyone else worked hard to not drown in their sorrow: Mr Weasley and Percy bestirred themselves with work at the Ministry, Molly supported Andromeda and helped Harry to look after Teddy. Bill and Charlie dedicated themselves to rebuilding Hogwarts and Ron made stupid jokes to not let himself be put down. As for Ginny, she accepted without begrudging all housekeeping chores that her mother gave her.

“You’re going to look after him,” guessed Harry.

“Bill and Charlie are convinced that I’m the best person to help George in his shop,” confirmed Ron. “And we think that the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes is the only thing that can pull him out of his depression.”

“I agree with them,” said Harry after having thought for a moment. “Are you hesitating to do it?”

“I also think it’s the best solution, and I didn’t really want to go back to Hogwarts anyways. What’s tormenting me is what Hermione is going to say about it.”

Harry shrugged. He had no idea how their friend was going to react and he couldn’t reassure Ron on this point.

*

When Ron and Harry descended to the kitchen the next morning, only Hermione was already there. Harry pretended to decide to go and shower while the bathroom was still free and left them to themselves. When he came back, Hermione wasn’t there anymore and Ron was finishing his breakfast in the company of Ginny. While the young girl walked to the sink to wash her bowl, Harry leaned to his friend and whispered:

“And?”

“She assured me that she trusts me to decide what’s best for George and me,” he replied in a whisper, visibly relieved.

Harry was happy for him, but at the same time a little uneasy about the idea that he was supposed to say the same thing to Ginny. The young girl was currently walking back towards them and asked:

“What are all these whispers for?”

“I decided to go work with George instead of going back to school this year.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow:

“Have you told Mom yet?”

“No.”

“Good luck, then!” she told him sarcastically before leaving the kitchen without even looking at Harry.

“Thanks for offering me your help!” groaned Ron as she left.

Harry fixed the young girl’s back, thinking that for him, it wouldn’t be quite easy either.

*

They met the girls in the living room half an hour later. Hermione proposed:

“Do you want to come along to Diagon Alley? I need to get a new wand.”

Harry and Ron accepted immediately. Ginny seemed to hesitate, but Hermione insisted:

“You need to go out for a bit. I’m sure your mom would agree.”

Ginny threw a look to the pile of washing to iron that was lying at the end of the sofa and agreed. Hermione went to inform Mrs Weasley of their project and, ten minutes later, they were exiting the Leaky Cauldron’s chimney one after the other.

They passed the separation wall and stopped for a moment to contemplate the view that offered itself to them. The change since their last visit was surprising. A big portion of the shops had reopened, even if their displays didn’t have the usual opulence. A happy crowd was walking around, people were calling to each other, and friends were falling into each other’s arms.

The four friends joined the crowd, happy to plunge into the overall jubilation. Many people they didn’t know addressed them in the middle of the street, just for the simple joy of sharing their happiness at first, until their spontaneity changed into ecstasy when they recognised Harry. The Boy Who Lived was drowning under congratulations, claps on the back and proposals to get free drinks in a bar. He only just managed to avoid being raised on an enthusiast’s shoulder to be carried down the streets in triumph.

“Look on the bright side of things,” Ron whispered. “You’ll never pay for a Butterbeer in your life again.”

Harry smiled mechanically, wondering whether he’ll ever be able to stroll around peacefully in the wizarding world. Finally, they arrived at Ollivander’s. A long line was blocking the entry to the shop. All those that had had the misfortune to lose or break their wands since the artisan’s kidnapping were now waiting to get a new one. The four friends settled down at the end of the line, resigned to wait for their turn.

“Oh look, it’s Harry Potter!” shouted the woman right in front of them. “Thank you so much for what you’ve done.”

“Hello,” said Harry politely.

“So you also need a wand, I see? Oh, go in front of me, please. I owe you that.”

“Actually,” started Harry, “it’s my friend who…”

“Thank you very much,” Ron interrupted him, pushing his friend in the back.

They went up the whole queue in the same way, no one wanting to let the grand Harry Potter wait. In less than a minute, they were in front of the door.

“There are a lot of people inside,” whispered Hermione. “We won’t all fit in there. You coming, Ron?”

She let her boyfriend in before her and closed the door to the two others’ nose. To avoid having to explain himself to all the people that had let him skip the line, Harry pulled Ginny towards the alley that separated the shop from the one next door.

Ginny cast him a dark look, visibly unhappy to be alone with him.

“Ginny…” started Harry.

Seeing that she was briskly walking away, he caught her arm and shouted:

“Ginny, wait! I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” she snapped.

Harry decided to trust in what Hermione had said. In what concerned feminine psychology, she had always known everything a lot better than him. He started:

“Sorry that I didn’t understand your place was at Hogwarts. I only thought about myself. Please forgive me.”

For the first time in three days, Ginny looked into his eyes.

“Do you really think what you’re saying?”

“I… I know that I can’t decide anything for you.”

She fixed him intensely and he feared for a moment that she didn’t think he was sincere. But finally she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with passion. Immensely relieved, he lifted his arms to hug her tight when she stepped back and told him fiercely:

“You know you’re the first one to ever tell me that?”

Before he could answer, she had already pressed her lips on his.

*

They kissed with passion for a moment, then Ginny simply stayed cuddled up in his arms, eager for tenderness. To be left in peace, they decided to stay in the shadow and to stroll along the small alley that passed behind the shops.

While they were walking around Gringotts hand in hand, a stubby silhouette jumped at Harry, who narrowly avoided him by jumping to the side. He drew his wand, pushing Ginny behind him.

“Griphook!” he shouted, recognising his attacker.

“Here you are, thief!” snared the goblin.

“I’m not a thief!” protested Harry.

At this moment, Ginny walked forwards next to Harry, giving him a kick in the calf. Harry was about to tell her to hide behind him, but he realised in time that he couldn’t fight to enemies at once. He decided to arrange his disagreement with the bank employee first.

“It’s you who broke the terms of our contract!” rebelled Harry. “You fled with the sword while we were still in the vault. I really had the intention to give it to you later,” he assured.

“Liar! You enchanted it to make it disappear!” yelled the furious goblin.

“Not at all,” snarled Harry who was starting to get pissed. “I didn’t know about this enchantment. But we almost died because of you!”

“You’ll pay for this,” spat Griphook, stepping forwards.

“Stay where you are,” Ginny ordered him, pointing her wand at him.

“Tell your female not to meddle with this,” retorted the goblin with arrogance, speaking to Harry.

The latter didn’t even have the time to answer. An immense Bat-Bogey hex flew past him to melt down on his aggressor. Ginny pulled him back and they ran away without turning back. They arrived back in Diagon Alley out of breath and plunged into the crowd to stop the goblin to find them.

“Thanks,” panted Harry.

“Please try to avoid placing yourself in front of your female like a brave knight,” replied Ginny. “It tends to annoy me, and next time the Bat-Bogey hex is for you.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Harry assured her with sincerity, as his calf was still hurting.

“D’you recon Ron and Hermione are still at Ollivander’s?” wondered Ginny.

“No idea. In any case, I don’t think they’ll complain about a bit of time together.”

They were interrupted by a man with a notebook in his hand.

“Mr Potter, would you accept to answer a few questions for the Prophet?”

“No,” he answered promptly. “I need to head on.”

He walked away quickly, followed by Ginny.

“Should I cast him a jinx?” she offered.

“No thanks, it would make a lot of fuss and I don’t really want that to happen,” he tempered.

“We can only go home, then,” she sighed.

“Yes, I really prefer your mom’s supervision to this!”

“I never thought I’d say this, but me too. I’m looking forward to being back at Hogwarts!”

*

Molly was probably either very absentminded or very worried about her daughter’s mood, as she sent both of them hang the washing at the back of the garden. Isolated by the big sheet they had decided to hang first, the chore was less unpleasant than they could’ve imagined and took a lot more time than it should have. But no one thought of blaming them for it.

Hermione and Ron came back just before lunch, looking satisfied, which led Harry to think that they too had really appreciated their time alone. Once the meal was over, while Harry, Ginny and Hermione cleared the table, Ron planted himself in front of George.

“All the shops have reopened in Diagon Alley,” he told him blankly. “We’re doing the same with yours this afternoon.”

“The Weasley Wizards don’t exist anymore,” answered his brother laconically.

“Fred put a lot of effort into creating them. I refuse to see them disappear just because you don’t want to look after them.”

“It doesn’t concern you. It’s my shop.”

“And Fred’s. You were maybe his twin, but I was his brother and I have my word to say. I don’t want all we have left of him to disappear just like this.”

Harry, Hermione and Ginny had interrupted their work. Molly had abandoned her washing-up and had turned around, her wand raised just in case, forgetting her sink that was starting to overflow in the general disinterest. Charlie, who had eaten lunch with them, stepped in:

“Ron’s right, George. The best way to honour Fred’s memory is to continue to sell the Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes products. I’ll come with you.”

He walked forwards and placed his hand softly on his brother’s shoulder. George stayed motionless before slowly raising his head to his older brother:

“I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to do it,” he whispered.

“You won’t be alone,” Charlie reminded him affectionately. “We’re all there. The whole family is with you.”

He and Ron made him stand up and pushed him gently to the chimney.

* * *

**Chat with J.K. Rowling, 30th of July 2007**

  * _Ron joined George at Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, which became an enormous money-spinner._


	4. Guess who’s coming for dinner today

6th of May – 18th of August 1998

* * *

**Chronology**

2nd of May 1998 : Battle of Hogwart

* * *

As soon as Ron, Charlie and George had disappeared in the chimney, Molly stifled a sob. Ginny hugged her tight. Hermione suddenly realised that the sink was overflowing and beginning to create a flood, and she and Harry quickly finished cleaning up the kitchen.

Later, Hermione used the Floo network to go do some shopping while Harry went to fetch Teddy. Andromeda had indeed asked him to take him for a while, as she had to complete some administrative procedures at the Ministry. Harry thought it was perfectly timed – the presence of a baby at home always had a good influence on Molly. They spent the afternoon strolling around the countryside surrounding the Burrow. Teddy, amazed, looked around with interest, his irises permanently changing colours.

When the Weasley boys came home, George’s eyes were slightly less dead-looking. He was far from his usual good mood, but he seemed to follow conversations, to the rest of the family’s huge relief. Hermione created huge surprise when she announced she was leaving the day after tomorrow.

“But where do you want to go?” worried Mrs Weasley. “You’re at home here.”

She cast a look to her youngest son, as if she was suspecting him of being the cause of his girlfriend’s evasion. But Ron looked just as surprised as the others.

“I need to go fetch my parents,” explained Hermione. “I bought myself plane tickets this afternoon. I’ll only be gone for a few days. Can I leave you Crookshanks for that time? After that, I’ll probably stay with my family until the start of the school year.”

Ron didn’t seem particularly ecstatic about this program, but he preferred not to say anything. He and his girlfriend had a long conversation in the garden after the meal, from which the young man came back slightly relieved:

“She says that when she’s back, we’ll be able to see each other in the evenings when I’m done with the shop,” he explained to Harry while they were preparing for the night. “The advantage of being a wizard is that distance isn’t an obstacle.”

“That’s great,” commented Harry, but he thought that when Hermione would join Hogwarts in September, Ron wouldn’t be able to see her that often.

*

The following days, Harry and Ginny often found each other left to themselves in the house. Hermione was in Australia and Molly did what she could to help other witches and wizards in need. Bill had resumed his job at Gringotts, Ron, Charlie and George looked after the shop and Mr Weasley and Percy worked at the ministry.

Ginny regularly had melancholy attacks during which Harry did his best to be tender and affectionate. He had understood that she needed to be busy to forget her dark thoughts and he arranged the day in such a way that they always had something to do. In the morning, they assured the stewardship of the Burrow, going shopping at Hogsmeade, cleaning the house and preparing meals. When they were in any kinds of public place, Harry hid under a large wizarding hat that he carefully pulled down to his eyebrows. On some afternoons, they took Teddy with them and took him back to his grandmother in the evenings.

Harry decided to officially pass his apparition test. He had practised this exercise a lot during the last year and obtained his qualification with ease. When they had free time, Ginny also helped him to sort his post. The Boy Who Lived received a good dozen letters per day. There were congratulations to which he never answered, not wanting to create a fan-club; there were demands for autographs which he usually threw into the fire, Professor Lockhart having disgusted him from them permanently; and there were interview offers, to which he answered firmly with no, his relations with Rita Skeeter having scalded him.

At the beginning of July, Hermione, who had only just returned, came for dinner with her parents. They declared themselves to be delighted of their sabbatical year in Australia and thanked Molly for looking after their daughter during their absence. Mrs Weasley declared modestly that it was the least to be expected. The conversation quickly turned to kangaroos, Aboriginals and Australian tourist attractions.

The next morning, Ginny expressed the desire to go shopping in Diagon Alley, and Harry accepted to accompany her under his big hat. They first went to the bank to collect some money. Harry felt very uneasy when he entered, fearing not only to walk into Griphook again, but also to be recognised as the most recent person to have broken into the respectable institution. The goblin at the reception effectively looked at him with a marked suspicion. No less than three creatures climbed with him into the chariot leading to his vault. He filled his purse while they watched his every movement, then was led back into the street.

“One day, you’ll have to tell me in detail what happened when you broke in,” remarked Ginny who had been waiting for him outside and had seen him walk out surrounded by two guards.

“Later,” groaned Harry, upset to be considered as a thief, even though he had to admit there was a valid reason for it.

While they were walking past the Eeylops Owl Emporium, the young girl’s eyes were drawn to a beautiful spotted owl with an intense black stare.

“Don’t you think he’s beautiful?” she asked Harry.

“Do you want him?” he wondered.

“I was rather thinking of buying him for you. You can’t send any letters anymore yourself.”

“It’s not that important,” Harry objected, thinking to himself that no messenger could ever replace Hedwig.

But he suddenly realised that once he’d be back at Hogwarts, he’d surely need to correspond with Andromeda to have news of Teddy.

“You’re right,” he finally sighed, trying to be reasonable. “I probably will need one soon.”

Once the owl bought, Ginny pulled him back onto the street where they did the planned shopping. They stopped in front of the broomstick shop, seduced by an animated image advertising the merit of a completely new model.

“The _Lightning Strike_,” read Ginny. “It looks amazing!”

“Should we have a closer look?” offered Harry.

They admired the presented prototype. It looked extremely fancy, covered in silver from the handle to the end of the twigs. According to the description that was written on a poster next to it, it was the fruit of the latest magical innovations. It offered extreme acceleration capacities and flexibility in manoeuvre that had never been seen before. Comfort hadn’t been forgotten either, as an _Impervius_ had been integrated, permitting to ‘_continue playing even in a storm, without feeling even one drop of rain_’.

Harry remembered that he had lost his broomstick and that he should maybe get himself a new one if he wanted to re-join the Quidditch Team. His heart sank when he thought that he had lost one of the rare presents Sirius had given him. But he had to be reasonable: he had just replaced his loyal owl and he needed a new broomstick.

He wondered whether to let himself be tempted by the _Lightning Strike_. It was probably very expensive, but money wasn’t exactly a problem to him. After having weighed the pros and the cons for a moment, he decided to just stay with the latest version of the _Firebolt_. It had been one of the best presents in his childhood and this model would always be his favourite.

*

During the third week of July, three owls arrived from Hogwarts, carrying letters for Harry, Ron and Ginny. They learnt that they were invited to pass exams to validate the previous year, just before the official start of school in September. To permit those students that had had a ‘_disrupted school year_’ to catch up on what they had missed, the school was opening to everyone who wanted to as soon as the first of August. Every letter was signed by _Aristotle Brocklehurst, Headmaster of Hogwarts_.

“Who’s that?” asked Harry, surprised not to see Professor McGonagall take in this position.

“Mandy’s father,” Ginny reminded him. “She’s in your year, in Ravenclaw. Her father is the one who opened the underground school this year. I think I’m going to try and pass my exams. Can I go back to Hogwarts in ten days, Mom?”

“If you want to, my darling,” accepted Molly slightly surprised.

“But…” started Harry, speechless.

“Harry, don’t you understand? If I pass my exams, I’ll be in my seventh year, and we’ll be in the same class in September.”

Harry admitted that being in Ginny’s class for a year was worth a four-week separation.

“Why don’t you do the same, boys?” asked Mrs Weasley. “You could get your NEWTs and the end of next month.”

Ginny cast her mother a furious look.

“I’ve missed too much. I won’t catch up in so little time,” objected Harry.

“But Harry, your natural magic surely permits you to…”

“Mrs Weasley, I have no chance of passing the theoretical exams.”

“And you, Ron,” attacked Molly, changing target, “you should use the time to get your diplomas. I’m sure Hermione is also going. Don’t you want to study with her?”

Ron seemed unsure about the last argument, but he threw a look towards George who was drinking tea and answered firmly:

“No, I’m more useful in the shop.”

In any case, Hermione wasn’t going back to Hogwarts either. They learnt from Ron that she had decided to study at home and present herself at the exams as a free candidate.

*

On the evening before Ginny’s departure, Harry’s eighteenth birthday was celebrated. Even George made an effort to smile a little and join in to sing the traditional birthday song, which deeply touched the young man. On the next morning, Harry accompanied Ginny to King’s Cross with Mr and Mrs Weasley. The young girl shamefully abused of his emotions to trick him into promising to write to her twice a week.

Her departure, added to the memories of professor Dumbledore that emerged in him while looking at the station, made him melancholic for the whole day. Not even Teddy managed to make him smile. It had to be said that with only five months, the child wasn’t exactly the best partner for a conversation.

Molly, worried to see him hang around like suffering soul, asked him whether he had any friends to see or things to settle before his own start of school. Harry suddenly remembered a point that he had forgotten about.

“Mrs Weasley, do you know what happened to Snape’s body?”

“I suppose it’s been sent to his family without ceremony, like those of all the other Death Eaters found at Hogwarts.”

“He wasn’t really a Death Eater!”

“He seemed to be one,” Molly reminded him. “I don’t think he had any family,” she added, “so maybe you should send professor McGonagall an owl to ask what happened to him.”

Harry followed this tip and soon became an answer.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_I’m slightly surprised by your request and hope that it is not sparked by a desire for vengeance. We have all been very disappointed by professor Snape’s betrayal and shocked to realise to what point professor Dumbledore had let himself be abused on his behalf. Nevertheless, Severus Snape is dead and we have more important to do than to dwell on regrets and revenge._

_I can nevertheless tell you that, as professor Snape didn’t have any remaining family, professor Slughorn took his burial in charge, being his old Head of House. If this matter is very important to you and if you want more specifications on this topic, you can ask him directly._

_In expectation of seeing you again on the first of September, I beg you to receive, dear Mr Potter, my cordial greetings. _

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Vice-Headmaster of Hogwarts_

This letter led Harry into thinking. He suddenly realised how hard it would be to tell the public what Snape’s role in the victory against Voldemort was. Yes, few people knew that he had himself ended Dumbledore’s life, but he was to almost all wizards the headmaster that had closed Hogwarts to all children whose blood wasn’t pure enough and who had let the Carrows attack students that couldn’t defend themselves. Harry decided that the rehabilitation of his reputation would have to be tempted by an official personality and he asked Arthur Weasley to organise him a conversation with the Minister for Magic. Despite his full timetable, Kingsley Shacklebolt accepted to receive him two days later, between two official meetings.

Harry exposed his problem, explaining the reasons for the ex-potions professor’s actions towards the then-headmaster and his certitude that Snape had pretended to be a Death Eater to save Hogwarts from a worse fate. He underlined the fact that he had protected Ginny, Luna and Neville by deciding of their punishment himself after they broke into his office to try and steal the sword of Gryffindor. To finish off, he reminded Kingsley of how Snape had arranged to send him the precious magical object.

“May I know how you procured yourself this information?” asked Shacklebolt.

“He gave me his memories while he was agonising,” explained Harry. “You can also ask Dumbledore’s portrait at Hogwarts, he’ll confirm what I said,” he assured.

The Minister thought for a moment.

“Harry, I trust you, but right now I have other priorities.”

“Mr Shacklebolt…” started Harry.

“Harry, I need to make sure that all wizards on the run get a wand back and can go home. I need to find out what happened to those who fled and haven’t been seen since. I need to organise pensions to families who lost the member that was ensuring their subsistence. I also need to get the public to accept that Azkaban will no longer be guarded by dementors and make sure that we park these creatures to places where they will not hurt anyone anymore. I must supervise the trials to check that they are done correctly and I must try and get the ministry to run normally again despite the fact that our staff is almost half as small as it usually is, due to not only war victims but also the arrest of employees that were too implicated in the previous regime. So at least in what concerns me, Snape will have to wait a little.”

“I understand,” said Harry, but he couldn’t hide his deception.

“Nevertheless,” continued the Minister, “there’s a topic that I would like to talk about with you. What are you planning to do once you have your NEWTs?”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” Harry confessed.

“Professor McGonagall told me that you were planning on becoming an Auror. Did you change your mind?”

“Do you think it’s a good idea? I mean, we don’t have any dark wizards to fight anymore.”

“Voldemort wasn’t the only one. The others maybe don’t have his skill or his ambition, but they still give us a lot of problems. Regularly, greedy or immoral wizards decide that Dark Magic is the best way to reach their goals, and we have to intervene. In addition to that, the misguidance of some Aurors in the last two years makes me think that we would need a moral authority in the brigade. Someone who reminds them that orders don’t have to be followed if they are immoral or inhuman. You maybe made mistakes like everyone else, but you have always shown a great righteousness.”

Harry wondered what Shacklebolt would say if he found out that he broke into Gringotts using the Imperius curse or if McGonagall told him how he had used a Cruciatus Curse on Amycus Carrow.

“I don’t know whether my presence in the Auror department would change a lot,” Harry remarked sceptically.

“I think that, on the contrary, the presence of emblematic people placed in the right places can modify many behaviours and help me to get rid of the corruption that is all over the ministry.”

“Do you really need me for that?” wondered Harry.

“If you still wish to become an Auror, you’ll benefit of a fast career thanks to your past accomplishments and you’ll then have the possibility to influence on the mentality of the new people to join. On my side, I’ll be able to clean up among the elders.”

“I’ll think about it,” promised Harry.

“Good. But don’t forget that you first need to receive five NEWTs with an ‘Exceptional Effort’ mention.”

“No cutting corners,” smiled Harry.

“No matter what job you choose, you’ll always serve as a model to others as you are a well-known and admired person. It’s a great honour, but it also imposes you a lot of discipline.”

“I suppose no one will ever let me forget that I was the Boy Who Lived,” sighed Harry.

“Indeed, to the whole wizarding community, you are and will always be the Chosen One,” confirmed Shacklebolt with a comforting smile.

*

Quite shaken, Harry told Hermione – who came to visit them at least once a week, despite her revision for the exams – about the scene.

“Excellent!” cried Hermione. “I knew we could trust Kingsley Shacklebolt to get things to move. I think I’ll have to go speak to him about S.P.E.W. You know, Harry, if I get my NEWTs, I’ll apply to enter into the Department for Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. I need to attack the problem by its roots.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s great,” Harry approved flabbily, discouraged by the idea that no one except him seemed to care about Snape’s sacrifice.

Indeed, he had received only a very limited support to his cause from Ron. But he had underestimated Hermione. As always, she had a solution to offer:

“Did you know that Lee joined the WWN? He’s animating a podcast called _Guess who’s coming for dinner today?_ in which he interviews some famous personalities. It would help his career a lot if you accepted to answer his questions, and it would help you to tell the public what role professor Snape played.”

“Hermione,” Harry shouted, “did you know you’re a genius?”

“Ron reminds me about it pretty regularly,” she admitted, throwing her boyfriend a satisfied look.

*

Harry contacted Lee, who seemed delighted by this opportunity. He invited him to come to the radio’s studio to prepare the podcast with him. They discussed the topics that they would talk about. However, the journalist indicated that there might be some unexpected questions to preserve the spontaneous side of their conversation. He also reserved himself the right to check over some points before the start of the podcast.

“Harry, you know it was Snape who cut off George’s ear, right?” Lee was currently asking. “Is it really important that we mention him?”

“He was trying to protect him, but he missed his target in the overall confusion,” Harry assured him. “Do you think I would defend him if I wasn’t certain of what I was saying?”

“It’s my job to make sure about that, Harry.”

They decided to run the podcast as soon as the following week so that it would be done before Harry’s return to Hogwarts.

*

The evening arrived soon and Harry, his throat tightened by stress, sat down in front of George’s friend. Lee played his podcast’s introduction theme, winked at Harry and started:

“Witches and Wizards, Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for listening to _Guess who’s coming for dinner today_. It’s a big day today, because we have the honour to welcome the famous, the marvellous, the one who saved us all, I’m talking about the great Harrrrrry Potterrrrr!!! Hello, Harry.”

“Hello Lee,” answered Harry in a voice he didn’t quite recognise.

“Harry, you’re known since your childhood as The Boy Who Lived. You distinguished yourself as an extraordinary Seeker as soon as you entered Hogwarts. You’re the winner of the Triwizard Tournament, being its fourth participant, which gives you a unique status. You were the first to warn us of You-Know-Who’s return and you persevered in claiming it, even though the newspapers dragged you through the mud and tried to get you across as crazy. You created the first defence movement at Hogwarts, the Defence Association, better known under the name of Dumbledore’s Army. And finally, after being the Undesirable Number 1 for almost a year, you fought You-Know-Who in a face-to-face combat and overpowered him. Harry, why you?”

“Oh, err…” stammered Harry, surprised by the directness of the question and by its formulation. “Well, mostly by chance, I’d say. It could’ve been anyone else.”

“Witches and Wizards, you can see that the Boy Who Lived stays modest in all situations. Well, I think I’ll ask the question that’s on the lips of all the magical community. Harry Potter, what did you do during the months during which you disappeared in the company of your friends Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley?”

“We had to stay hidden to escape from the Ministry of Magic and we had to accomplish certain actions to finally end the reign of Voldemort.”

“Could you be a tad more precise?”

“Not really. It has to do with acts of Dark Magic which I would infinitely have preferred not to know about,” commented Harry who couldn’t stop himself from shuddering when thinking of the pieces of his enemy’s soul he had so long carried with him.

“I won’t ask any more details from our guest. Believe me, his expression right now has convinced me from any inappropriate curiosity. Let’s then leave Dark Magic where it is. I have to admit that I hardly dare to ask the next question. Harry Potter, in front of many witnesses, you have pushed away the _Avada Kedavra _of You-Know-Who with a simple _Expelliarmus_. How do you explain this miracle?”

“There is no miracle. It’s just an act of ancient magic, accomplished by my mother, Lily Potter,” explained Harry who had prepared this answer to be able to omit the Horcruxes and Deathly Hallows. “She paid for this protection with her own life and I’m very grateful to her for that.”

“Is this also how you survived your first confrontation with this wizard of sinister reputation while you were only just a child?”

“Exactly.”

“Does that mean he could come back like he’s done it before?” worried Lee.

“This time, he’s definitely dead,” assured Harry. “Like I’ve indicated it already, my friends and I accomplished the necessary actions to ensure that he could be definitely eliminated. I would like to point out that professor Dumbledore has helped us a lot in this quest, as well as professor Snape.”

“Professor Snape? The one who closed Hogwarts to wizards from a muggle family? Who seemed to be such good friends with the Death Eaters who used _Crucios _on the students who had the boldness of standing up against their regime? The one whose role in the first wizarding war was never completely puzzled out? The one who seemed to have a personal grudge against you when you were his student?”

“Yes,” admitted Harry with a grimace, as he wouldn’t have minded it if Lee hadn’t been so detailed about his ex-professor. “I admit that I never liked him a lot and that he didn’t like me either. But it is indisputable that he loyally helped professor Dumbledore in his fight against Voldemort. For him, he was a spy within the Death Eaters and, if he jeopardised himself, it was only to ensure he could better accomplish his mission. I can also affirm you that, without his interventions, Voldemort would still be able to come back once more. I want to publicly recognise the help he brought me. Help that he paid not only with his life, but also with his reputation.”

“A reputation that you want to clean up.”

“Yes, it seems fair to me.”

“I also heard in your speeches a great admiration for professor Dumbledore. A book was released this year about this famous character, revealing how many dark elements of his past he hid from us. Have you read it?”

“If you want to talk about the compilation of gossips called _Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_, yes, I’ve read parts of it, just enough to understand how far from reality it is.”

“Are you saying that everything in the book is false?”

“I’ve always admired professor Dumbledore as my guide and my mentor. I’ve had occasions of learning more about his life and, if I still admire him now, it’s because I know the errors of his youth and consider them forgivable. I also judge him in the light of what he did in his entire life for our community, and I find it perfectly shameful that a so-called journalist permits herself to drag him through the mud after his death.”

“It doesn’t seem like you have especially warm feelings towards Rita Skeeter.”

“I don’t think any kinds of warm feelings can be associated with this person,” spat Harry who had become used to the question game to a point where he had forgotten all his nervousness.

Lee gave Harry a huge amused wink before continuing.

“Let’s come back to your fight against You-Know-Who. Why did you decide to answer his Unforgivable with an _Expelliarmus_?”

“Because unless I’m very angry or it’s absolutely necessary, I prefer not to use offensive curses.”

“Having seen the consequences of a simple Disarming jinx of yours, I think I’ll try to avoid making you very angry,” commented Lee with a huge smile. “Can I ask you what you did with the wand that you took from him?”

“I destroyed it,” Harry lied with confidence.

“Those who assisted to your duel thought to understand that it was a powerful wand having belonged to Albus Dumbledore as well as Gellert Grindelwald.”

“Just another reason to destroy it, right?”

“If you say so. Well, it’s five before nine and this podcast is coming to an end. One last question, Harry, what are your projects for the future?”

“Go back to Hogwarts next month for my seventh year and pass my NEWTs.”

“And then?”

“If my marks permit it, I’ll post my application to become an Auror.”

“I don’t think I’m making a mistake by affirming that everyone who’s listening to us is joining me in wishing you good luck and feel reassured by the fact that you’re continuing to look after our society.”

“That’s very kind of you. I hope that I’ll be worthy of your trust.”

“On this last touch of modesty, I think we’ll end the conversation. Do you have anything else to say to our listeners?”

“Yes, I’d like to thank all witches and wizards that continued to fight in my name and who didn’t believe that I could’ve fled, abandoning them. Thank you to everyone who left encouraging messages in Godric’s Hollow. I was extremely touched by this mark of trust.”

“It was a pleasure, Harry. Dear listeners, don’t miss our next episode of _Guess Who’s Coming for Dinner Today_. Our next guest will be Aristotle Brocklehurst, the new director of Hogwarts. I wish you all an excellent evening.”

With a swish of his wand, Lee started the end song and stood up to leave the place to the next animator.

“You were perfect, Harry,” he congratulated him. “It was amazing. Believe me, we’re going to be on the front page of all newspapers tomorrow. Thanks to you, my podcast is going to become famous.”

“I’m happy for you,” smiled Harry. “It’s only fair after the amazing one you were animating last year.”

“The problem with illegal podcasts is that they only have a limited audience. But here, it’s assured glory. But you know, if I can permit myself a small remark, you shouldn’t attack yourself to Rita Skeeter like that. She’ll make you pay for it.”

“I’m not scared of her,” growled Harry.

“Seriously Harry, is there still anyone you’re scared of?”

“Of Molly and Ginny Weasley,” he admitted after a few seconds of thought.

“I see that your survival instinct is still here even after all your adventures,” laughed Lee.

*

Effectively, many articles quoted large extracts of the radiophonic interview and many chronicles were written about this subject. To Harry’s great satisfaction, his words about Snape were hugely stated and commented. Nevertheless, not everyone agreed with him – far from that.

“At least, it had the merit of starting a debate,” remarked Hermione. “It was reminded that professor Dumbledore had always trusted him and that he affirmed during the trials of the First Wizarding War that Snape had spied for him.”

“Yes, but I feel like people are trying to make me come across as someone who makes up nonsense again.”

“Not necessarily. Look at this: _What should we say about this surprising statement? To anyone, it’ll feel like a completely made up story. But on the other hand, it wouldn’t be the first time the Boy Who Lived announced us something impossible_.”

“You see, I announce the impossible!” cried Harry.

“By saying it’s not the first time, the journalist is saying that it’s true, like the last times.”

“Of course, but it’s sarcastic!”

“Harry, I know you’re disappointed not to have convinced everyone, but it was impossible to manage it from the first try. It’s already great to have sparked the idea.”

Harry shook his head. He hated these twisted reasonings. He was made for action, not for communication campaigns. Hermione threw a look to Ron who was playing chess with his dad, then to Molly and George who were listening to radio at the other end of the room. She signed to Harry and invited him silently to follow her into the garden.

“What’s all this mystery?” he asked as soon as she closed the door behind them.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about, but I never manage to be alone with you.”

Harry felt his stomach contract. This kind of precautions probably didn’t mean anything good for his peace and quiet.

“What?” he asked plaintively.

“The wand,” she answered.

“What do you mean, the wand? The Elder Wand? I’ll put it back in Dumbledore’s coffin as soon as I can.”

“It’s not a good idea. You’ve revealed twice already that it belonged to Dumbledore. It’ll be too easy to find.”

“I said that I destroyed it.”

“What if no one believes you?”

“And then? You’d have to steal the wand from me to be its rightful owner. But I’m not planning on using it.”

“But Harry! Anyone who listened to the speech you held to Voldemort understands that disarming you is enough to make oneself the rightful owner of the Elder Wand, no matter which wand you have in hand. That’s what happened with Malfoy, remember? Do you realise that your power over this wand is at the mercy of the first _Expelliarmus _to reach you? And you want to become an Auror, right? Do you think it’ll never happen that you let yourself be caught by surprise?”

Harry thought for a moment about his friend’s arguments.

“Okay. What do you think I should do?” he asked.

“Firstly, not to put this wand back in Dumbledore’s tomb. It’s too easy to find. Then, we’ll have to think of a place where no one will ever find it.”

“In fairytales, everyone always ends up finding the best-hidden objects,” remarked Harry.

“Harry, we’re not in a fairytale,” hissed an irritated Hermione, who visibly hadn’t lost any of her pragmatism.

“But the Tale of the Three Brothers is really based on reality.”

“The objects in question were created by wizards, not by Death. The Deathly Hallows are a complete invention.”

Harry decided not to answer to so much bad faith. They had had enough arguments about the topic during the last year.

“We could put it in the Room of Requirement if it survived Crabbe’s magical fire,” he proposed.

“You ended up by finding Rowena Ravenclaw’s lost diadem there,” she opposed.

“Do you have a better idea?”

She admitted that no and they went back into the house.

___________________________________________________

**Chat with J.K. Rowling, 30th of July 2007**

  * _She [Hermione] brought them [her parents] home straight away._
  * _He [Kingsley] wanted Harry to head up his new Auror department._ _Harry did so (just because Voldemort was gone, it didn’t mean that there would not be other Dark witches and wizards in the coming years)._
  * _No, [dementors won’t come back to Azkaban]. Kingsley would see to that. The use of Dementors was always a mark of the underlying corruption of the Ministry, as Dumbledore constantly maintained._
  * _Harry would ensure that Snape’s heroism was known._

** Interview Today’s Show with Meredith Vieira, 24th of July 2007**

  * Who’s the headmaster of Hogwarts? Well, it would be someone new. McGonagall was really getting on a bit. So someone completely new.


	5. Back to School

19th of August – 18th of December 1998

* * *

**Chronology**

2nd of May 1998 : Battle of Hogwart

* * *

Harry didn’t have time to be bored during his last few weeks of holidays. He had to answer to two or three dozen interview offers from journalists all over the world who seemed to believe that he had overcome his shyness after Lee’s podcast. He also had to regularly write to Ginny. For the entirety of August, he had been regretting his moment of weakness at King’s Cross Station where his girlfriend had managed to get him to promise to send her two owls a week. He had been very naïve to think that the gift of the owl had been purely out of kindness. And to end off, he spent a part of his afternoons with Teddy.

A few days before the start of the school year, he went to Diagon Alley to buy himself his schoolbooks. He also had to buy all kinds of school supplies as he definitely didn’t want to go back to Privet Drive to fetch his quills, parchments and cauldron. He almost regretted not to have done it, though, when he realised the amount of emotion that was created in the shopkeepers by the fact of selling ink and paper to the Boy Who Lived.

On his side, Ron was dealing with a completely hysteric Hermione who was freaking out at the thought of passing her NEWTs soon. He was going for dinner at the Grangers’ every single day. Harry wondered whether it was really to encourage his girlfriend in her last spurt, like he was telling his mother, or to lift his spirits after a day of supporting his depressed brother. But whatever the reason for it was, it often happened that he only came back at dawn.

On the first of September at five to eleven, Harry, accompanied by Mrs Weasley, arrived at King’s Cross platform. He only just had time to let Molly hug him before jumping into the train that was already starting.

He had hardly any trouble to find an empty compartment: the Hogwarts Express carried almost only First Years, as most of the other students had returned to Hogwarts a month earlier. He therefore sat down comfortably and prepared himself for several hours of solitude. But after ten minutes, Dean joined him.

“Wow, we have the train almost just to ourselves,” shouted the Gryffindor. “I don’t think there are more than fifty people! Isn’t Ron with you?”

“He’s not coming this year,” explained Harry. “He’s helping George in his joke shop. Oh, and I was wondering,” he started, hit by a sudden idea, “why didn’t you go to Mr Brocklehurst’s school, last year?”

“When I first heard about it, I had left home since long,” Dean replied. “I had received a call-up from the ministry soon after learning that I wasn’t allowed in Hogwarts anymore. I understood there was a danger and I decided to hide without waiting that they came to fetch me.”

They spent their trip talking about the events of the past year. Dean, who had stayed in contact with Luna, told Harry that she had been at Hogwarts for the last month and really liked Mr Brocklehurst. When they finally arrived, they descended from the train and followed the platform all the way to the carriages, sensing the interested looks of other students behind them and hearing their whispers when they recognised Harry. Dean shuddered when they passed the thestrals.

“I know that they helped us,” he confided to Harry, “but I just can’t stop myself from finding them hideous.”

They left their carriage in front of the school’s large gates. While they were passing through the entrance hall, Harry felt a strong grip pull him aside. His first movement was to resist and take his wand out, but he quickly recognised his aggressor and let himself be pulled away. In the next second, he was kissing Ginny eagerly behind a pillar. Too early to his taste, she pulled away from his hug:

“I passed,” she announced triumphantly.

“Well done,” he congratulated her. “I was sure you’d manage.”

“Luna and all my other classmates are also continuing to seventh year,” she added.

Harry suddenly realised that the reason why Ginny had wanted to pass her exams was not only to be in his class, but also to not stay behind the others of her year.

“I’m quite worried about Hermione,” he entrusted her in a grave voice.

“What’s wrong?” she answered, alarmed.

“I’m scared that she failed all her NEWTs,” said Harry in a dramatic tone.

“Oh come on!” laughed Ginny. “McGonagall says she has the best results since one and a half centuries. According to Hermione, that means Dumbledore was better than her, but not You-Know-Who. Come, let’s go congratulate her.”

When they entered the Great Hall, Hermione pounced at them with a parchment in her hand:

“I got an Optimal in my seven subjects,” she exulted. “Do you realise? Seven O’s!”

“I would never have believed that of you,” Harry pretended to be surprised. “Are you sure you didn’t accidentally swallow a cauldron of Felix Felicis?”

“Idiot!” Hermione replied laughingly.

“Harry!” Neville interrupted them. “How are you?”

“Great, thanks. How did your NEWTs go?”

“I got the three that I was presenting, with an O in Herbology.”

“Well done!” smiled Harry.

Seamus and Parvati had both also achieved pretty good results. Lavender, on the other side, had gotten only two subjects.

“Are you going to try again next year?” Hermione asked her.

“No, I’m pretty done with school,” she answered.

“If you would please sit down,” asked a low voice.

Harry looked towards the professor’s table and quickly recognised Mr Brocklehurst. He was a man of broad calibre with very brown hair and sideburns. All students immediately set off to their table, but Harry decided to make a quick detour to say hi to Luna.

“This is going to be a very special evening,” explained the Headmaster, “as it will be at the same time a welcoming feast and a goodbye feast to those who just obtained their NEWTs. The sorting will also be slightly longer than usual, as all of the second-year students who didn’t attend Hogwarts last year will also be sorted today. I hope that all friendships that were created in my school will be able to endure a possible separation into different houses.”

Around fifteen students stood up and placed themselves in front of the professor’s stage – the second years that hadn’t been sorted yet, Harry guessed. The door of the small next-door room opened and Professor McGonagall entered the hall, carrying the Sorting Hat and followed by more or less forty terrified-looking First Years. Once it was placed on its stool, the magical headwear started its song:

_After troubles, fears and tears_

_Peace and friendship come back home_

_The time of house quarrels has ceased_

_The time of forgiveness has come_

_Welcome to fearless Slytherins_

_To Gryffindors with high ambitions_

_To Ravenclaws with loyal hearts_

_To Hufflepuffs so full of wisdom_

_After troubles, fears and tears_

_The time of forgiveness is here_

“Did the sorting hat overdose on Firewhiskey?” asked Ginny. “It mixed up everything!”

“I think it was intentional,” analysed Hermione. “It wants to indicate that we’re not limited to the personality trait that’s supposed to define our house.”

The transfiguration professor started to call up students, interrupting their discussion. Harry’s heart sank when he was suddenly reminded of the sinister recitation of names in May of the same year. In front of his inner eye, he saw the big funeral tent in front of which the grief-stricken families had been passing. His eyes met those of Dennis Crivey. They exchanged a sad look, knowing they had the same image in mind. Hermione on his left pulled him out of his sombre daydream:

“Well, that’ll be interesting!”

“What? What happened?”

“Augustin Dolohov just got sent to Gryffindor.”

Indeed, an intimidated-looking student was walking towards their table under very weak applause.

“Dolohov?” Harry replied in shock.

This name was hated by all the Weasleys. Not only had Antonin Dolohov assassinated Molly’s brothers during the first wizarding war, but he had also been the one to strike the blow that had finished off Remus in the battle of Hogwarts.

“It’s his nephew,” Ginny spat from his right.

“The time of forgiveness has come,” Hermione reminded them.

Harry preferred not to answer. His attention turned back to the Sorting Ceremony and he remarked that the students seemed to be having longer discussions with the Sorting Hat than usual. It almost seemed like the division into houses was based on a lot more complex criteria than during the last years.

Once all the students had joined one of the tables, Mr Brocklehurst stood up and announced:

“Before I let you eat, I think I’ll introduce myself to all the newcomers. My name is Aristotle Brocklehurst and I organised classes last year for students who were refused access to Hogwarts. I have been given the honour to succeed to the illustrious professor Dumbledore. I don’t have the pretension to equal him, but I hope to be on the level of his humanistic values.”

Harry thought with a bitter irony that Snape’s headmastership was just being skipped over.

“It’s now the moment to present your new professors to you,” continued Brocklehurst. “Margaret Bell will teach you Muggle Studies. She has muggle family herself and therefore knows her subject from top to bottom. I hope she’ll manage to make you forget the atrocities that were taught to you last year.”

A woman in her thirties had stood up during his short speech. She was dressed in a muggle style – jeans and blouse – but the wand hanging from her belt and her pointed hat showed her belonging to the magical community.

“Your professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Josef Williamson, was an Auror during more than twenty years. His injuries from the Battle of Hogwarts forced him to withdraw from his old job, but he will be able to teach you all he knows.”

The Ex-Auror looked like he was in his late forties. One of his arms was missing and he was casting a sharp look at his future students. He stopped slightly longer when his eyes arrived on Harry, who looked at him in return. The young man appreciated what he could see in the professor’s eyes: curiosity, but also a neutrality that showed the fairness and lack of prejudice in his judgement. The man turned away and sat down while the Headmaster, with a flick of his wand, made steaming dishes appear on all the tables. The students started to help themselves in a cheerful cacophony.

“Hermione, I’m not sure I understood what you were saying about houses,” Ginny restarted their conversation.

“I was just trying to say that just because I’m in Gryffindor, that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to like studying and learning. According to the house attributes, I should’ve been sent to Ravenclaw. But being in Gryffindor helped me to discover other aspects of my personality, without stopping me from studying.”

“It’s true that the Gryffindor daredevils influenced me into taking some risks that can be seen as courage nowadays,” Neville thought aloud.

“I feel like at the start, you only out of loyalty,” Hermione remarked. “Maybe this indicates that you could’ve fitted into Hufflepuff. Maybe you would’ve been happier there.”

“In the first few years, maybe,” Neville admitted. “But now?”

“Being in a house that doesn’t correspond to our main attributes is maybe a good thing,” Hermione concluded. “It helps us to develop other sides of our personality.”

“Do you think I should’ve accepted to go to Slytherin?” Harry asked, not particularly convinced.

“Why not?” Hermione replied lively. “Would you have chosen Voldemort’s side just because of that? Maybe it would’ve brought you to think a little more before you act and not throw yourself headfirst into all kinds of troubles.

Harry knew that it had nothing to do with what Hermione was saying, but he couldn’t help himself to wonder whether Sirius would still be alive if he had been in Slytherin and had been more careful. He also had to admit that Hermione’s Ravenclaw side had helped him a lot. And hadn’t his quest of Horcruxes been more of an act of loyalty towards Dumbledore than actual courage? He shook his head. Wonder about what could’ve happened wouldn’t help him in any way. He could let the job of making a list of his errors to Rita Skeeter.

“How’s Brocklehurst?” Harry asked Neville while taking a slice of his favourite treacle tart.

“I think he doesn’t really like the house system,” his classmate answered. “During our three catch-up weeks, we were sorted by level and not by houses. For example, I was asked to help Malfoy to revise his Herbology, and Nott helped me for Charms.”

Harry turned towards the Slytherin table. His best enemy was concentrating all his attention onto his plate. Harry was relieved to hear that he would leave on the next day, still being unsure about what he really felt towards him.

“How was it to teach Malfoy?” he nevertheless asked with curiosity.

“He was less arrogant than he used to, but didn’t seem to want to try to be friends,” Neville answered. “Nott came to ask me what I got for my Charms NEWT, but I didn’t really dare go and ask Malfoy the same.”

“Malfoy reminds me of Regulus,” Hermione confided to Harry in a whisper. “They’ve both been stuffed with ideas on blood purity since their childhood, but weren’t cruel enough actually implement them by becoming real Death Eaters, despite their parents’ will. Do you think the Sorting Hat is influenced by the current Headmaster?” she continued dreamingly. “I feel like the system we used to have was created mostly by professor Dumbledore’s attachment for this sorting of the students.”

“Well, there are good sides to sorting as well,” Harry remarked. “How could we organise Quidditch competitions without house teams?”

“It also has a lot of negative sides. But it all depends on how it’s used,” Hermione admitted while watching thoughtfully how the young Dolohov was starting to chat to and get to know his future classmates.

“By the way, where’s Firenze?” asked Harry.

“Professor Trelawney told me he went back to where he came from,” Lavender told him.

“His clan accepted him to come back?” Harry rejoiced.

“It would make sense after their decision to fight on our side,” Hermione commented. “I can try to find out more, if you want.”

At the end of the meal, the fifth year prefects lead the younger students to their common rooms. Harry stayed back in the Great Hall to greet the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs he knew best. He soon realised that very few of his old classmates were still staying; most of them had been at Hogwarts or in Brocklehurst’s school during the last year and hat just passed their final exams. Some others had decided not to try, like Ron. In total, there were only six people staying for another year. It was with little motivation that Harry congratulated Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott for having obtained their NEWTs.

Harry later climbed up to Gryffindor tower with Hermione and Ginny. They found their classmates busy celebrating their last day of school. As soon as they entered the common room, everyone made place for them and pressed bottles into their hands.

“Hey Neville, where did you find all these drinks?” wondered Hermione.

“I went to visit Abe this afternoon while we were waiting for the results,” Neville confided them with a wink.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other before simultaneously jumping at each other to pull each other away from indiscreet ears.

“Hey, it’s just a bit of Butterbeer!” protested Neville.

“Did you go through the room of Requirement?” Harry asked eagerly.

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

“We just wanted to know,” justified Hermione.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Seamus called, one bottle in each hand.

“We’re coming,” Harry answered.

Gradually, as the party was fading out, the younger students started to go to bed. At the end, only Harry’s old classmates were still there, not wanting to separate for good. Sitting in a circle, they reminded each other of the best moments of their shared school time. Harry was surprised to realise how many good moments he had shared with them despite his many adventures that had often isolated him from the rest. At midnight, professor McGonagall walked into the common room to send them off to bed. While Harry started walking towards the last staircase leading to his dormitory, Neville stopped him:

“Err, Harry and Dean, I think you’ll be sleeping there,” he said, pointing to the door they had just passed.

On it was a sign that read _Seventh Year Students_.

“We’ll see each other tomorrow before you leave, then,” said Harry with a grimace.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’re all very nice,” Seamus tried to comfort them.

“We’ll see,” groaned Dean.

The group separated. Harry and his friend looked for their new beds under the dim light of their wands. Their trunks weren’t in their usual places, which just contributed into destabilising them. But there was nothing they could’ve done about it, except to kick out those sleeping in the beds they were used to have. Harry persuaded himself that it wasn’t a good idea and the two boys undressed in silence.

Once Dean had fallen asleep, Harry pulled his invisibility cloak over his pyjamas and grabbed the Elder Wand out of his suitcase. He tiptoed to the common room where he found Hermione in a dressing gown. He pulled away his hood.

“I’m here,” he indicated.

“Are you sure about this, Harry?”

“We didn’t find a better solution,” he justified himself.

They slid into the corridors and walked up to the seventh floor.

“Can you let me do it?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded and she turned to the blank wall that was facing the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

“We need a place where only pure hearts can enter,” she started. “A place where powerful magical objects can be protected from all selfish or maleficent use.”

After a few seconds, a door appeared. They pushed it open and examined the room that had just appeared with curiosity. They entered into what looked like a huge cathedral, illuminated by the shine of the moon that was twinkling through the large stained glass windows. On stands placed all over the room where disposed diverse objects: armours, mirrors, vases, flasks, clothes… They walked around it in an impressed silence.

“Caledfwlch,” read Hermione on the sharp edge of a sword. “Do you realise, Harry, it’s King Arthur’s sword!”

They continued for a moment to look through the different treasures that surrounded them. Harry heard Hermione whisper, visibly impressed:

“Pan’s flute… A golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides... Thor’s hammer…” 

She bent over a small round mirror. Surprised to not see her reflection, she blew over it. Flamboyant eyes appeared and a low voice arose:

“Madam, you are the fairest here so true. But there is somewhere in the country a young girl a thousand times more beautiful than you.”

Hermione jumped back.

“Even this fairytale has a real base!” she called out, visibly disgusted.

Harry finally managed to find an empty stand. He slowly placed the wand on it.

“There you go. Woah, what’s that, some kind of modern artwork?” he asked in a puzzled voice a few steps further, his eyes having fallen on a pair of shoes that seemed to be made of crystal.

“No, that’s Cinderella’s glass[1] slippers,” she corrected him, seeming irritated by such a lack of culture. “And I think that’s the seven-league boots lying there,” she added, pointing to slumped knee boots made of old, scratched leather that where lying on the next small podium.

“Good thing that we have a pure heart,” joked Harry. “Otherwise, Merlin knows what we could do with all these magical objects.”

“Aren’t you at least a little bit tented?” smiled Hermione.

“No. My only goal in life is now to die at an advanced age, surrounded by my twelve children,” Harry assured her.

Hermione let out a loud laugh.

“Merlin bless professor Trelawney’s predictions,” she concluded between two giggles.

*

On the next morning, those who had now finished their studies said their goodbyes to those who were staying for another year and climbed into the carriages, while Harry started his first lesson with his new classmates. It was a Transfiguration lesson and it was with joy that he settled back into his old routine.

At the end of the lesson, professor McGonagall held him back while the other students started to leave.

“Well, Mr Potter, have you already planned when you will have the trials for your Quidditch team?”

“Am I still Captain?” wondered Harry.

“Of course! Once you’re nominated, you keep this post until you leave Hogwarts, unless you resign. I dare say I hope it isn’t your intention.”

“But last year…”

“We didn’t organise a Quidditch cup. I think certain professors were too scared that the Slytherin team wouldn’t quite reach expectations.”

They exchanged a smile.

“I’ll look at the timetables and decide on a date as soon as I can,” promised Harry before running off to catch up with Ginny.

At the end of the potions lesson, professor Slughorn also wanted to speak to him.

“Harry, my dear boy, I’m organising a little start-of-year party next Saturday evening. I hope you’ll give us the honour to join us.”

“Err, I’m not sure. I have a lot of work to do with Quidditch, and it’s also NEWT year, so…”

“Your charming friend, Ginny Weasley, has accepted to come.”

“Well, I’m very happy for her, but I don’t think I’ll be able to free myself on that day.”

Harry was about to leave when he remembered something.

“Professor, I would’ve liked to know… Professor McGonagall said that it was you who took charge of professor Snape’s burial. Where was he buried?”

“I’ve had echo of what you declared about him on the radio,” the potions professor replied slowly, as if looking for the right words. “How did you get this information?”

“Professor Dumbledore arranged a way to… err… pass me a message on to this behalf.”

“Are you sure it isn’t a fake? Harry, my dear boy, you could’ve been abused, or manipulated…”

“No,” affirmed Harry. “I’m certain of what I declared on the radio.”

Slughorn looked at him thoughtfully for a few seconds before blurting out:

“I’ve organised for him to be buried with his parents. I hope he’ll rest in peace there.”

“Me too,” assured Harry, but he doubted that the tortured soul that had been Severus Snape would ever find peace anywhere, even in death.

*

All students soon experienced the change of directional politics regarding house separation. Following Brocklehurst’s advice, the professors had started to mix them without distinction when creating working groups or when nominating tutors for those who needed it. A studying lounge had also been created to permit members from different houses to meet up there and study together. Other quiet occupations, like chess matches, were also tolerated. Harry, Ginny and Dean developed the routine of spending their evenings there to work on their homework in the company of Luna.[2]

For the first time in years, the Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons were run in a way that satisfied Harry. His professor had asked him to stay back at the end of the first lesson so that he could evaluate his level. In the next lessons, he then let him work with his classmates on techniques that he didn’t know yet, but when the exercises were too easy for him, he gave him special tasks to work on. He didn’t seem to manifest any obsequiousness or unnecessary harshness towards the young hero. He just tried to let him work as hard as everyone else, which perfectly suited Harry.

Transfiguration lessons were as he had expected: the written homework was more and more demanding and their manipulations were starting to get increasingly complex. In potions, professor Slughorn seemed very disappointed that Harry had lost his overwhelming intuition and his extraordinary innovation capacities. The young boy was nevertheless happy to realise that his months of working with the Half-Blood Prince’s tips in sixth year had given him good basics and that his marks, even though they weren’t top of the year anymore, were still better than he would’ve thought. They were nevertheless not quite good enough to assure him an E in his NEWTs and Harry soon got used to the idea that he’d have to work a lot in this subject.

He had also been worried that Hermione’s absence in Charms class would be a handicap to him as she had always helped him to control his gestures and the nuances of the spell’s pronunciations. But he soon realised that his daily practice of charms and jinxes in the last year – to prepare food, clean up the tent, iron their clothes, set up protections – had given him a fluency that permitted him to follow the classes without a problem. He had more problems in Herbology, as he wasn’t as passionate about nature as Neville. But he knew that this NEWT was crucial for his ambitions as an Auror and tried his best to listen well in class.

Between his lessons, homework and Quidditch practice, Harry spent a lot of time with Ginny, but moments where they could devote themselves totally to each other were rarer than they would have liked.

Outside of class, Harry’s social life was sometimes burdensome. Besides the usual whispers, some of the students even took up the courage to talk to their hero to congratulate him while blushing horribly or asking for an autograph, which was very embarrassing. He tried to fit into his new class, but he soon realised that he’d never be a part of it. It was always hard to integrate a group that had known each other for years, and being the Boy Who Lived didn’t especially help him.

On the other hand, Harry learnt to know Dean better, as both of them were finding themselves slightly isolated. Their mutual experience of life as a fugitive brought them closer, and they often exchanged knowing smiles in the middle of conversations that reminded them of shared memories. Harry also loved to chat with Luna. Freed from Hermione’s implacably rational judgement, he managed to adopt his friend’s delirium and to give her the benefit of the doubt, his lack of culture leaving him a great marge of tolerance.

The start of the Quidditch season also gave Harry the occasion of spending time with other students in whose minds he soon changed from the status of Boy Who Lived to that of Demanding and Ruthless Captain.

The trials to select new players had attracted a huge crowd to the Quidditch pitch who, according to Harry, had very little to do with love for the Noble Sport. At least, he thought with bitterness, those that’ll join the team will be able to support the crowd’s pressure.

He had decided to put back all the posts in play as he wanted to give a chance to the younger students as well. In addition, just waiting for placed to be freed one by one wasn’t necessarily the best way to make sure he had the best players that Gryffindor had to offer. Indeed, like Oliver Wood in his time, Harry was very motivated to win the Quidditch Cup in his last year at Hogwarts. In his worry about fairness, he had even thought of vacating his position of Seeker to give others a chance, but Ginny and her brutal common sense had easily dissuaded him of that:

“Why would you do that? You’re the best and you know it. If you measure yourself to others, people will say that you were trying to show off. It’s better to come across as despotic than to come across as vain.”

Ginny and Demelza Robins easily resumed their posts. As a third Chaser, he chose Alison Sunner, a second year student that seemed very promising. Jimmy Peakes lost his position as a Beater for the benefit of a Third Year, but Ritchie Coote was still in. Euan Abercrombie, who blocked the most quaffles, became Gryffindor’s Keeper.

*

This year, Harry was receiving more letters in a week than in the seven last years together. Not only did he get tons of letters from thankful witches and wizards, but Hermione also wrote to him regularly to keep him informed of how her career was going on and how their other friends were doing.

Hermione had entered, as she had wished, the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. She had been given the task of writing a report about elves’ working conditions and to suggest concrete solutions to improve their lives. She was planning on doing the same for all other thinking creatures that were treated unfairly, like goblins, centaurs and werewolves.

According to her, Ron was doing a great job along George as a psychological support, but was also great as a shopkeeper. Harry could also confirm the Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes’ success: he regularly saw products created by the Weasley brothers at every end of the castle, which highly irritated Filch but extremely rejoiced Ginny, whom he suspected of being a key part in illegal imports of items from the joke shop. Hermione also informed him that Neville had started working for an Herbalist in Diagon Alley and that Susan Bones had joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

In addition, Harry had developed the routine of writing to Teddy every week to describe him the miracles of Hogwarts and to narrate him the best parts of his life as a student. In return, Andromeda kept him informed of his godson’s progress and assured him that the child loved to listen to her reading the letters he had sent. Harry nourished the secret hope that hearing a lot about him would help the baby not to forget him before the Christmas holidays.

During his first week at school, Harry had also visited Kreattur in the kitchens. He had found him in very good shape, his locket still around his neck, and emblazoning proudly a trace of a severe burn on his arm, proof that he had fought in the battle.

Harry had assured him that Master Regulus would’ve been very proud of him, which had led the creature to look over his fellow elves with a superior look. The young boy had also announced the news of Dobby’s death to Winky and she had broken into tears. Harry hoped that it wouldn’t lead her to drink even more.

*

In the beginning of October, the court trials started. Voldemort’s puppet minister opened the session. Pius Thicknesse, his soul damaged from months of obedience to the Imperius Curse, was declared irresponsible of what had happened and was sent to St Mungo’s in the section for Spell Damage. Umbridge, after a long list of appalling testimonies concerning crimes she had committed on Muggle-Born wizards, was sentenced to Life Imprisonment in Azkaban. Other high-ranking officers, whose implication in pro-pureblood laws was crystal clear, were also punished with severity.

Some hearings, on the other hand, were causing uproar in the public, as the culpability of the accused was more difficult to prove. Partisans of their innocence and partisans of their infamy were leading a real battle against each other, followed closely by the newspapers that echoed every action of the fiery tribunes.

Lucius Malfoy defended himself with skill, repeating to everyone around how he had been forced to accommodate the Dark Lord in his manor after the latter had kidnapped his wife and son. The fact that he had been in disgrace in the eyes of his old Master helped him and there was one vote missing to send him to Azkaban. He was therefore allowed to re-join his manor and his wife. Even though Harry knew that they deserved a stricter punishment for the crimes they had committed, he took into account the help that Narcissa had given him on the day of the battle.

Draco wasn’t even cited, as only Harry could’ve been able to denounce him for complicity in Dumbledore’s murder and in the Fiendfyre episode in the Room of Requirement. But as Dumbledore had always wanted to give a chance to the young Slytherin, Harry had decided not to say anything. He rather kept all these memories to himself and tried to forget them once and for all.

All the Death Eaters whose active implication in the Battle of Hogwarts had been confirmed by narrations of the castle’s defenders were sentenced to life in prison. Albert Runcorn, the Ministry of Magic official whose appearance Harry had taken when he had broken into the Ministry to retrieve Regulus’s locket, was a part of them. It was with an immense satisfaction that the Boy Who Lived read the sentences condemning Antonin Dolohov and the Carrow siblings.

A considerable number of Hogwarts residents, not only Slytherins, saw their surnames acquire a sinister connotation as the trials were re-counted by the news. The growing tension at the school was raised another notch when the students of age that had used Crucios on their classmates – even if under the influence of the Death Eaters teaching at Hogwarts – were called to stand in front of the court.

The jury decided that they had been forced to act in this way by the Carrows’s authority and by the brutality that the latter had used on their opponents. They were therefore relaxed, but nevertheless had to stay a few months in prison. This lack of punishment highly offended all the Hogwarts students that had suffered from the Carrows’ reign but hadn’t given in. Aware of the students’ unhappiness, the professors started to patrol around corridors to make sure no one attacked anyone else.

As soon as the first trials had started, the Hogwarts Headmaster had declared in the Great Hall one evening:

“It’s always a drama for a community to see its members rip each other apart and persecute each other. We are here not only to learn magic, but also the art of living together in harmony. War and fratricidal battles don’t have to enter this school. For this reason, any kinds of exclusion or bullying of students because of their relatives will be severely punished. Everyone has the right to be judged for what they are themselves and not for what their family say about so-called blood purity.”

Two Gryffindors that professor Sprout had surprised in the middle of insulting a Slytherin whose father had only just been sentenced were immediately sent to the principal’s office and were soon punished with a week of detention with Filch. This led to a lot of students thinking twice.

When Harry reported her this incident, Hermione answered: _Professor Brocklehurst is right. It’s up to the court to decide of punishments that will help us to turn the page. Private revenge will only increase the hate: it creates a feeling of injustice to those that have been tormented because of someone else’s crimes and increases intolerance. If we would close our eyes on this kind of actions, we would be setting the bases of the next war._

*

A few days later, Harry understood what Hermione meant and completely agreed with her. He was in the Gryffindor common room, working on his homework with Ginny, when he heard laughter from the corner where First and Second Years were sitting. He looked up to see the origin of the noise, thinking that if Hermione was here, she would’ve hurried to the troublemakers to remind them that they probably had homework to do.

With a melancholic smile, he turned back to his parchment when a detail hit him. In the middle of the laughing group was standing the young Dolohov. The latter razed the walls ever since his uncle had been brought before trial and Harry felt sorry for him whenever he saw him. However, he hadn’t yet found the occasion to talk to him since the beginning of the year. Harry observed him with more attention and understood what the cause of the laughter was. Dolohov was in the middle of a group that was having fun, but he himself wasn’t enjoying himself, wearing a frozen smile, his eyes fixed to the floor. The others were talking to him, but he didn’t seem to want to answer. Certain that something was wrong, Harry stood up to find out more.

When he found himself two metres away from them, he could confirm his intuition. The tone of the laughing group was mocking and despising. Harry took another step towards them. One of the students saw him and nudged his friend. All turned their attention towards him. They had stopped talking, but their smiles indicated that they were expecting to be supported in their actions. Alerted by his bullies’ silence, Dolohov looked up as well. What Harry saw in the young boy’s eyes shook him. _So that’s what I looked like when Dudley and his friends bullied me,_ he realised.

A wave of rage and hate submerged him and he breathed in deeply to resist the temptation to use a stinging jinx on the bunch of First and Second Years. His feelings were probably very visible, as the young Dolohov cowered on his chair.

“You’re disgusting me,” growled Harry. “Six against one, that’s not bravery! Piss off, party’s over!”

They stayed dumbfounded for a second before understanding that Harry was really talking to them. They stood up and hurriedly obeyed him. Noticing that he had attracted the attention of all the Gryffindors around, Harry turned to the public and indicated clearly:

“If it amuses you to humiliate others, you aren’t any better than the Death Eaters. And those that watch this kind of scene without even moving their little finger are nothing more than cowards!”

Too many students in his eyes seemed surprised by his reaction. Others, thankfully, approved of his intervention or seemed embarrassed by their inaction. Harry turned towards the boy he had rescued. The child was looking at him with a surprise mixed with mistrust. Harry searched through his memory to try and remember his name.

“Augustin,” he said softly, “if they start to annoy you one way or the other, tell McGonagall about it. That’s what she’s here for.”

“It’s not worth it,” whispered the young boy. “They were just talking.”

Harry looked at him, concerned. He felt powerless, hesitating on the best way to help him without making him feel weak and even more left out.

“I won’t let them do anything more to you,” he affirmed before turning away.

He walked back to the table. Ginny had stood up and was talking to Vicky Frobisher, the Head Girl from seventh year. The latter walked out of the room – Harry hoped that it was to alert their Head of House of what had happened – and Ginny walked back towards him.

“Maybe you should teach him some tricks to defend himself,” she suggested, pointing her head towards Dolohov who was still sitting in his corner.

“Do you think the defence skills I have are suitable for an eleven-year-old child?” he opposed, doubtful.

“I could show him my Bat-Bogey hex,” she proposed. “It’s not too mean and it’s quite useful. While we’re waiting for him to master it, I could always just give him one or two goodies from George’s shop, what do you think?”

“I think it’s a good idea, but he’s probably not the only one in this case.”

“I just reminded Vicky that it’s her job to stop this from happening. She promised me she’d mention it to the Head Boy and other prefects.”

*

Another debate was agitating the wizarding society. How should Azkaban be guarded? A majority of people couldn’t even imagine anything other than dementors in this role and was in favour of keeping them. But those that had been imprisoned during what witches and wizards were starting to call the “Year of Darkness” had another vision of things. Other than their realisation of the inhuman conditions of detention, they had also realised that the prison wasn’t just home to dangerous criminals. Small thieves, dealers and culprits of minor crimes were punished in a disproportioned way compared to their infractions, and many voices asked for the implementation of more appropriate punishments.

The Minister being strongly opposed to the use of Dementors in Azkaban, a group of officials was charged to inform themselves on foreign magical prisons and to suggest different solutions. Needless to say that Hermione's letters mirrored all the good she thought of this initiative.

She also confided to Harry that on the side-lines of the high-profile trials, a purge was being put in place in the ministry, with the goal of removing all power and even eliminating officials who had been guilty of corruption these past years from the departments.

_It’s definitely a lengthy undertaking,_ Hermione complained in her letters, _since highly paid bribes and fictitious burdens have formed in all departments, since the previous ministers were quite indulgent on this subject. Some laws were only passed to benefit the most powerful employees, and hard-working officials have been dismissed for the benefit of incompetent people with good relations. The appointment of Kingsley Shacklebolt, _she concluded,_ is the best thing that could’ve happened to us._

Of course, this kind of measure wasn’t accepted without problems. Those who could lose everything with the stroke of a broom did their best to discredit the temporary minister, hoping to weaken him before the vote that would decide whether or not he would definitely be re-elected into his office took place.

Slanders, questionings of his integrity, accusations of trying to _promote his friends instead of employees having proven themselves_ were fed to the public through different newspapers. Rita Skeeter was completely in her element, relaying the worst possible gossips she could find.

It was nevertheless true that the highest posts had been given to Kingsley Shacklebolt’s long-time friends, as he had chosen them for their morality. Sturgis Podmore had been named head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hestia Jones was Hermione’s boss in the Magical Creatures section, Percy directed the International Trading Organisation and his father was Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.

Political tensions were at their peak when the Christmas holidays finally arrived.

________________________________________________

**Chat with J.K. Rowling, 30th of July 2007**

  * _Slytherin has become diluted. It is no longer the pureblood bastion it once was._
  * _Remus was killed by Dolohov and Tonks by Bellatrix._
  * _No, the Malfoys weaseled their way out of trouble (again) due to the fact that they colluded (albeit out of self-interest) with Harry at the end of the battle._
  * _Did Draco and harry lose their animosity towards each other when Voldemort died? Not really. There would be a kind of rapprochement, in that Harry knows Draco hated being a Death Eater, and would not have killed Dumbledore; similarly, Draco would feel a grudging gratitude towards Harry for saving his life. Real friendship would be out of the question, though. Too much had happened prior to the final battle._
  * _She [Winky]’s still at Hogwarts, and she was one of the oncoming house-elves who attacked the Death Eaters in the final battle._
  * _Does Winky still drink a lot of Butterbeer? She’s dried out a bit now._
  * _Has the jinx on the dada teaching post at Hogwarts been lifted? Yes, at last!_
  * _The new improved Percy ended up as a high-ranking official under Kingsley._
  * _The rest of the herd was forced to acknowledge that Firenze’s pro-human leanings were not shameful, but honourable._
  * _Hermione began her post-Hogwarts career at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures where she was instrumental in greatly improving life for house-elves._
  * _She [Umbridge] was arrested, interrogated and imprisoned for crimes against Muggleborns._

[1] In the original book in French, Harry finds slippers out of squirrel skin, since they’re often made of that in the French version of the story. I decided to stick with glass ones to avoid confusing English readers.

[2] A studying room for where all houses can meet up is inspired from an excellent French fanfiction called _Les Secrets d’Hermione _(Hermione’s secrets) by **Miss Teigne**.


	6. Christmas Holidays

#  **VI – Christmas Holidays**

* * *

19 – 26 December 1998

* * *

**Chronology**

2nd of May 1998 : Battle of Hogwart

* * *

When Harry and Ginny descended from the Hogwarts Express, Molly, Andromeda, Hermione and Ron were waiting for them. But the traveller’s attention was immediately captured by Teddy’s presence, towards which he ran as fast as he could. The baby wasn’t feeling any differently: as soon as he saw his godfather, he started moving his arms and legs frantically and uttering excited cries. Harry took him in his arms and kissed him, making him shake with joy. Harry was surprised to see how much he had changed. He had terribly grown, his little face was a lot more expressive and his fluorescent hair was a lot thicker.

Harry felt strangely overwhelmed. While he was holding the tiny body tightly in his arms, he realised the place that Teddy had taken in his life, and the place he had taken in the baby’s one. He was simultaneously proud and touched by this new responsibility.

“His hair has never been this red,” remarked Andromeda. “I suppose it’s from emotion.”

“He recognised me!” cried Harry, ecstatic. “Even though we haven’t seen each other for four months!”

“I put a picture of you in his room,” explained the grandmother, “and I give it to him every time I read him one of your letters. And he’s ten months old now, he isn’t a baby anymore.”

Harry thought that she was probably also showing him pictures of his parents and he wondered whether Teddy was sad not to see them anymore. The child was currently moving his hands all over his godfather’s face with ravishment. When he started to gnaw at his collar, Harry decided to finally greet to the others.

Ron and Hermione had also slightly changed during his absence. He found them a lot more mature. He detected wrinkles in Molly’s face that he hadn’t seen on her before and he felt that some of her hair’s radiance had faded away. Only Andromeda still had the same pained dignity.

They met George and Arthur at the Burrow. Ginny jumped into her father’s arms and hugged her brother strongly. Teddy didn’t want to leave Harry and he therefore kept him on his lap during the whole meal, giving him his puree and compote. Ginny tried her best to replace him for a while, but the baby refused to eat anything from her, slightly vexing the young girl.

There was a drama when Andromeda tried to take her grandson back at the end of the evening. Finally, Mrs Weasley suggested that the child stay here for the night and started to install a cradle in the room where Harry was sleeping – the twin’s old room.

Harry kept Teddy against him until he fell asleep, and he could finally lay him down in his little bed. But his peace and quiet was of very short duration. Not more than five minutes later, the baby woke up in a jolt and started to cry.

Harry rocked him again until his eyes closed. The young man laid him back into his bed and went to brush his teeth. He had to come back to the room in catastrophe, his mouth full of toothpaste, and finish his ablutions with one arm less. He had to do difficult contortions to undress while holding Teddy, trying to explain to the troublemaker that it was time to sleep. Teddy finally dozed away. Harry put him back and went to bed as well. As soon as he started falling asleep, a desperate howl forced him to stand up again.

After three unsuccessful tries, Harry decided to simply shove the child into his bed while wondering how on Earth Andromeda managed to do this every night.

*

When he arrived in the kitchen the next morning with a very enthusiastic Teddy in his arms, Ron and Ginny answered to his ‘good morning’ with a mocking smile.

“Mr Potter, what effect does it have on you to become a father at only seventeen years?” asked Ron in a perfect imitation of Rita Skeeter.

Harry cast him a furious look and decided not to answer. Ginny showed more solicitude:

“How did you sleep?”

“Horribly,” groaned Harry. “Teddy was disturbing me the whole night. I woke up five times with his feet in my face.”

Without an ounce of compassion, the young Weasleys broke out laughing. The young culprit seemed to be in an excellent mood as well. He gave Ginny a huge toothless smile and accepted that she gave him his milk.

“Does George live somewhere else?” asked Harry who had seen him leave the night before after dinner, but hadn’t wanted to ask any questions in front of Molly.

“He’s back in his apartment in Diagon Alley,” explained Ron. “He eats here every evening, but he prefers to sleep at his place.”

“And… how is he?”

“He finally started manufacturing products again,” indicated Ron as if it was a great victory. “Until now, it was Charlie who was in charge of it, and I took care of orders and sales.”

“Will Charlie still stay for long?” asked Ginny who was still giving Teddy his food.

“No, I don’t think so. He’s been offered a job in a Dragon sanctuary in Scotland. I think he’s waiting to find the right moment to announce it to Mom and Dad.”

“For this kind of news, there’s never a right moment,” prognosticated Ginny.

“And you, Ron?” wondered Harry. “Do you enjoy doing all this?”

“Yeah, I guess I like selling stuff. Charlie also showed me a bunch of tricks so that I can help George with creating new and old products.”

“You’re sorted for life, then,” smiled Harry. “Are you planning on getting yourself an apartment as well?”

Ron’s smile faded.

“Hermione doesn’t seem in a great hurry,” he confessed.

“She doesn’t feel like having to take care of Mr. Weasley’s food and washing,” explained Ginny. “If you want my opinion, my dear brother, settle down somewhere on your own and learn to look after yourself like a big boy, instead of just counting on Mom and waiting for another kind soul to volunteer. Look at Harry, he’s understood it!”

Harry looked at her, uncertain of the signification of this conclusion. Ron, on his side, almost choked on his sausage:

“Are you two planning on living together?” he exclaimed.

“Err,” panicked Harry, surprised about the question even though, when thinking about it, he rather liked the idea.

“It’s an example,” answered Ginny without seeming to remark her boyfriend’s emotion. “I just mean that he’s not expecting someone to hold his hand and help him to look after a baby. A man who doesn’t demand that his partner takes care of all the chores is distinctly more attractive.”

“I can’t be everywhere,” Ron defended himself. “I spend my whole days at the shop!”

“And don’t you imagine that Hermione could say the same? She works hard at the ministry as well. Do you think she’s going to abandon all of it just to prepare you nice little dishes or look after your laundry?”

Ron, irritated, said in an ice-cold tone as he got up:

“I need to go, it’s almost opening time.”

“What about your cup, do you think I’m going to wash it for you?” Ginny shouted after him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll do it,” indicated Harry who, even though he agreed with Ginny’s reasoning, thought that she had expressed it in a slightly rude manner.

“You know that I like you a lot,” smiled Ginny when he walked past her to go to the sink.

“Then I’m particularly lucky,” Harry congratulated himself. “And err… well, I mean… You… how would you like to come live with me? After school, I mean.”

“We’ve got enough time to see,” tempered Ginny. “I don’t even know what I want to do after my NEWTs.”

“Don’t you have any idea?” he asked her, slightly vexed that she thought of her career when he was talking about their relationship.

“Healer would’ve interested me, but my marks are a bit too low in Herbology,” she answered. “I’d also quite like Auror, I think.”

Harry opened his mouth to point out that it was quite a dangerous profession, but refrained himself in time. He finished washing the dishes and turned around to walk back to the table. His first step led him to bump straight into her as she had placed herself behind him. He caught himself on her shoulder and used the movement to kiss her, softly at first, then more and more passionately despite the little Teddy that she was still holding in her arms.

They separated while smiling at each other tenderly. Harry’s godson decided he had been discreet enough and started to agitate.

“You can clean his diaper and I’ll finish cleaning the kitchen,” suggested Ginny suavely, passing him the child.

When the young girl joined him in the living room Harry was busy admiring the baby’s crawling technique, who was now moving around on all fours. Andromeda had already told him about it per post, but he hadn’t had the pleasure to see it for himself the day before.

“It’s the slug stage,” commented Ginny while dropping down onto the couch next to him.

“Slug?”

“Yup, when he crawls around the floor drooling.”

“Are there other stages?”

“Crazy biter, when his teeth are starting to grow.”

“That sounds great,” sighed Harry sarcastically.

*

To Harry’s great relief, Teddy had accepted to go back to his grandmother’s house in the evening, which allowed him to help Ginny prepare the house for the Christmas celebrations of the next morning. These festivities weren’t bringing the joy and cheerfulness of the past years. The never-ending jokes to which the twins had accustomed them were painfully coming back into memory, but they nevertheless had it at heart to liven up the living room.

In a nearby forest, they found a beautiful fir tree that they decorated with red ribbons and colourful candles – without forgetting to use a fireproofing charm on the tree. On Molly’s wishes, they placed portraits of Fred, Ted Tonks, Remus and Nymphadora over the fireplace, along with Christmas cards that the Burrow’s inhabitants had received.

The whole family attended the Christmas meal. Fleur was accompanying Bill, accepting the fact that she would have to listen to Celestina Warbeck’s screeching. Hermione was also there – she would spend the following day with her parents and Ron. Percy had also joined the table, as well as Andromeda and Teddy.

The beginning of the evening was a little dreary. Harry thought that if it hadn’t been for the child’s chirps – who alternated between grand unarticulated speeches and painful demonstrations of crazy biting – the falsely cheerful conversations would’ve been unbearable. Luckily, the gathering around the fire reserved him more pleasure than he had expected.

It started with the present for Ginny. It wasn’t a surprise for Harry, as it had been his idea. He had asked for help from the entire Weasley family and asked Ron to buy it for him. It was in expecting silence that the young girl had unwrapped a long package.

“There’s no point in trying to make me believe it’s a broomstick,” she started, “I’ve also heard of distortion cha…”

She stopped under a wave of emotion. It was a _Lightning Strike_, the model she had admired with Harry five months ago. Ginny never could’ve imagined owning such a treasure. She stayed a long moment brushing its aerodynamic handle, stroking the fine-cut twigs and reading its name on the silver plate, under the tender eyes of her family.

Harry could’ve bought it by himself, but he had wanted to give the Weasleys the pleasure of giving their youngest child a present that was way over their budget. Seeing them all shining with happiness over Ginny’s amazement proved him that his idea was excellent.

While Andromeda completed the present by giving the young girl a new Broomstick Servicing Kit, Harry discovered the new Weasley jumper – the collar was in V this year. He politely thanked Molly and Arthur informed him:

“You’ve got another present in the garden.”

“It’s mostly from Arthur,” pointed out Mrs Weasley in a half-exasperated, half-pleased tone. “I’m sure you’ll really like it.”

Ron’s smile persuaded Harry to quickly open up the door. It was on the doorstep, gleaming, its leather soft, its chromes sparkling, ready to be ridden.

“How did you manage to get it?” Harry asked Mr Weasley.

“It was in my garden,” explained Andromeda. “In many pieces, but we found everything.”

“Can it still fly?” wondered Harry.

“Of course,” Arthur assured him.

A nudge from his wife led him to quickly add:

“But it’s against the law to use it.”

“Did you hear?” commented Ron cheekily. “You’ll have to make sure no one finds out.”

Harry was on cloud nine. He took Teddy from his grandmother’s arms and placed him on the saddle:

“Hey, Teddy, would you like to go on a ride on your great-cousin Sirius’ bike?”

“Not this evening,” said Mrs Weasley strictly. “The Santa Clause Brigade is out and the ministry has probably sent a lot of people to keep them in check.”

“The Santa Clause brigade?” wondered Harry.

“Wizards and witches that want to let young muggles dream,” said Hermione in a tone that clearly showed her dislike of everything irrational.

“Last year, they distributed medals with a lightning bolt on it,” remembered Charlie.

Even George couldn’t stop himself from smiling at this memory. Harry’s thoughts drifted to his last Christmas evening. In front of his inner eye, he saw a snow-covered Godric’s Hollow and the monument in honour of his parents. Hermione’s dreamy smile showed him that she too was thinking back a year.

Everyone went back inside to listen to Celestina Warbeck’s performance.

*

The 25th of December passed serenely. Ron left to spend the day with the Grangers, and the other family members rested and had a nice feast with leftovers from the day before. Ginny tried out her broomstick while Mr Weasley showed Harry how to use his new motorbike. They went on a very nice ride on the countryside roads and even risked a short flight over the clearing that the inhabitants of the Burrow used as a Quidditch pitch.

When Harry walked into the Broomstick shed to put away his vehicle, Ginny was busy putting down her _Lightning Strike_. He quickly walked out again, cast an _Accio_ to summon what he needed and walked back towards her with a small packet in his hand:

“Here, it’s for you.”

“Oh, Harry, you’ve already really spoilt me. I know that this beauty was your idea.”

“It’s not a lot, but it’s just from me,” he insisted.

“I hope that you’re not trying to bribe me into liking you more,” Ginny joked.

While Harry assured her of the purity of his intentions, the young girl opened the small package. Inside was a box of chocolate and mint-flavoured Cauldron Cakes.

“Oh, I love these,” cried Ginny while shoving a sweet into her mouth. “Thanks, honey!”

He hadn’t been tempting to bribe her, but he thought he deserved a kiss anyways. Luckily, Ginny seemed to quite agree with him. It was with her lips against his that he realised for the first time how much he really loved chocolate.

*

It was Charlie who broke the permanent Christmas good mood the next morning, announcing that it was his last week at the shop.

“What do you mean?” cried his mother, surprised.

“I’m starting off on the second of January in a Dragon sanctuary near the Sea of the Hebrides,” Charlie explained.

“But… what about the shop?”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” George cut in. “Ron is coping like a boss and the two of us will be perfectly fine.”

“But why do you have to go so far?” sighed Mrs Weasley.

“Come on, the Hebrides are in Scotland, it’s not at the end of the world. One can apparate easily for the journey.”

“You’ll continue living here, then?”

“No, I can’t. I need to be on site during the night, it’s part of my job.”

“But…”

“Mom,” Charlie interrupted her while taking her in his arms, “I’ll come visit regularly, I promise. I declined a job offer in Patagonia to stay relatively close to you. I’m sure you’ll even see me more often than Bill.”

Mrs Weasley dropped her shoulders in a sign of defeat.

“Dragons are dangerous, you know,” she tried again.

“Less than manufacturing George’s inventions,” assured Ron. “But I’m staying at the Burrow,” he added quickly, seeing his mother open her mouth.

“Okay,” she gave up. “I’ll take care of your trunk, Charlie.”

*

Once the three Weasley brothers started going to work again, Ginny and Harry did their best to stay out of Molly’s way, knowing that she often expressed her worries and vexation through a kind of cleaning frenzy. They decided to slip away to have a Seeker duel, for which Harry was planning on borrowing Ron’s broomstick, as his had stayed at Hogwarts. They were putting on their jackets when they heard Mrs Weasley shout from the living room:

“Goodness me! How dare she? She should be ashamed! How could she write such a thing?!”

“What’s wrong, Mom?” worried Ginny while sticking her head into the room where her mother was sitting.

“It’s this… this… this vixen of Rita Skeeter!”

“What nonsense did she write again?” asked Harry.

“My poor darling!” answered Molly, leading the young man to grimace as he understood it was about him. “But no one will believe such a compilation of nonsense,” she quickly added as though to comfort him.

Harry took the newspaper from her hands and started to read the article in question out loud:

“_Harry Potter, the Antihero_

_Harry Potter is considered today as the saviour of the magical world. He is talked about like a powerful wizard. Many sources affirm that he is the one who vanquished He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, like a Glanmore Peakes [1] of modern times. But what is the truth about him? Is he really the one who got rid of the terrible Dark Wizard who made us live in terror?_

_It really seems like no, and it’s he himself who affirms it. In a radiophonic podcast, interviewed by a facile puppet, the grand Harry Potter admitted that he had in no way beaten his enemy. “It’s just an act of ancient magic, accomplished by my mother,” he declared before pointing out, “You-Know-Who was a victim of his own curse”. As you can see, our hero is admitting to only have been a simple receiver of motherly magic. What did he then do that was so extraordinary, if one omits his tendency to regularly drawing attention to himself? The only possible conclusion that we can draw is that we are confronted with an impostor who is benefiting from a glory that he acquired without moving the little finger._”

“An impostor?” spat Mrs Weasley. “Without moving the little finger? And who’s the one who received an _Avada_ from this monster three times in a row, I ask you?”

“_Finding himself at the wrong spot in the wrong moment and surviving with unbelievable luck seem to be the only talents that we can attribute to him_,” continued Harry in a neutral voice. “_According to his own statements, the regretted Lily Potter died from trying to save him. The brilliant Cedric Diggory paid Harry’s irregular participation in the Triwizard Tournament with his life. How many wizards and witches fell at Hogwarts while waiting for Potter to finally decide to fight?_”

“How dare she blame the deaths of Hogwarts on you!” shouted Mrs Weasley, still flaming with rage.

“_Not unhappy to be able to stroll around while boasting about usurped achievements, our young prodigy is having a lot of fun to sowing trouble into our brains. His last craze consisted of singing serenades for a Death Eater who exercised his sadism on our children during the last year. According to Harry Potter, this cruel personage would’ve joined the Dark Wizard’s ranks at the demand of Albus Dumbledore. Then, he would’ve brought help to our so-called saviour. But what help, since we just established that the famous Potter hasn’t done anything?_

“So-called saviour?” cried Molly.

“_The confabulator has of course tried to lead us to believe that he was accomplishing essential actions during his long disappearance_,” continued Harry, imperturbable. “_Which actions? We will never know – our Uric the Oddball [2]is protecting himself with the secret that surrounds Dark Magic. There is no doubt that he was just hiding in the deepest hole he could find while we were suffering from the Dark Lord’s regime. It’s sad to think that the one we were then presenting as a figure of resistance in reality didn’t even care about the fate of those who thought him to be their friend._”

“And what was this pest doing, except agreeing with the regime?” thundered Molly.

“_The reader should have understood this: every declaration of this arrogant greenhorn should be examined with defiance. Those who support him about and despite everything might be sympathetic in their loyalty, but seriously lack judgement._

_Rita Skeeter_

_Coming out tomorrow: _Snape – Scoundrel or Saint?”

Harry, thoughtful, put the newspaper back onto the table.

“How could they publish such nonsense!” exploded Mrs Weasley. “I’m going to write to the _Prophet _right now to terminate our subscription. And I’ll tell them what I think of these atrocities.”

Harry and Ginny looked at her with anxiousness. They had rarely seen her in such a temper. Even on the day of the battle, in front of Bellatrix Lestrange, her controlled and canalised rage hadn’t impressed them as much as now. Her face was bright red, her movements were jerky, and red sparks were flying from her wand.

Harry didn’t really appreciate being insulted by the press either, but he put his irritation to the side to proceed to the most urgent:

“Mrs Weasley,” he said in a calming tone, “What this woman writes about me doesn’t affect me at all. I know what I did and so do my friends. Do you think that those who came to Hogwarts will believe such nonsense? I really don’t care about the opinion of those that weren’t even there. If it could’ve been anyone else, then I wouldn’t have hesitated to concede them my fame. What she writes has no importance. Like Professor Dumbledore would say, as long as they let me –” he paused to think of something that was as important to him as a Chocolate Frog Card to his headmaster – “play Quidditch and pass my NEWTs, I really don’t care.”

“But still…” 

“We’ve got more important stuff to do than to talk about her,” cut Harry. “I was planning on doing a broomstick race with Ginny and that’s what I will do. Don’t give her more importance than she merits,” he concluded while pulling his girlfriend into the garden.

Before he left, he quickly grabbed the newspaper from the table. Outside, he dropped it into the snow and set it on fire, which proved to be quite satisfying. The noises coming from inside lead him to think that the Burrow would be subjected to a very thorough cleaning.

“We’re wasting such a good occasion for a nice Bat-Bogey Hex,” grumbled Ginny. “I don’t know what’s stopping me from going to visit these brats at the _Prophet_’s headquarters and teaching them to control their publications better.”

Despite all the affection he had for her, Harry thought that in this situation, Ginny didn’t really help:

“Ginny, please, it’s just going to make things worse. Come on, show me that you deserve your broomstick,” he smiled and released the snitch.

After facing each other a few times in a row – the _Lightning Strike _was so fast and agile that Ginny managed to catch the small golden ball in front of Harry’s nose twice – they hid in the garden shed, preferring not to be confronted to Molly. While Ginny cleaned her broomstick with a maniacal care, Harry wondered whether he really didn’t care as much as he had affirmed to the two women.

In total, yes, he decided. He didn’t have any consideration for Rita and what she wrote didn’t affect him. To be honest, he had feared a lot worse after his attack on her during the radiophonic interview. He had gotten used to looks and whispers and, after all, why would he care about the opinion of people who actually believed the words of such an acid quill?

The two teenagers briefly went back to Molly, who was casting Scouring Jinx after Scouring Jinx, to pretend they had been invited to lunch by Andromeda and jumping into the fireplace. This completely made-up lie was transformed into a reality when they showed up at Teddy’s grandmother’s place just before 12 o’clock.

Andromeda had also read the _Daily Prophet_, but refrained herself from any comments, which was highly appreciated by Harry. He saw Ginny throw furious looks to the copy of the quotidian lying on a shelf, but she didn’t dare mention the subject. After a nice meal, they carefully pointed the tip of their noses in the Burrow’s living room and saw Hermione in great conversation with Molly. When they entered the room, Harry realised that she was holding the unavoidable newspaper, which seemed to be the centre of the conversation.

“Don’t pull such a face,” Harry told her. “I really don’t know why we should care about what this old vulture says about me.”

“I’m not worried about you,” Hermione answered dryly, “but about Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

“What?”

“Did you read the last sentence?”

“Yes, why?”

“_Those who support him about and despite everything might be sympathetic in their loyalty, but seriously lack judgement_,” cited Hermione. “It’s directly attacking the minister. She’s trying to weaken his arguments and his reputation. Today, she’s discrediting you, tomorrow she’ll push in the nail even further by showing that you’re saying complete nonsense about Snape – which a majority of witches and wizards are ready to believe – and the day after tomorrow, she reminds the public that Kingsley is a part of those who fought in your name. Haven’t you wondered why she’s writing this scandalmonger today and not directly after your passage in Lee’s podcast?”

“Err, no,” admitted Harry, who had only been relieved at the time, without thinking about why Rita hadn’t written anything.

“It’s because the vote for an official Minister is happening in ten days.”

“Is she against Kingsley?”

“I don’t even know. I just think she’s against anything honest and just and that she enjoys being in the mud.”

It had been long since Harry had last seen Hermione in such a temper. The situation had to be critical.

“What will happen if Kingsley isn’t re-elected? Who will be Minister then?”

“Silvian Dustan. Don’t bother, you don’t know him. But anyways, it doesn’t really matter; he’s just a puppet without intelligence, manipulated by the richest and highest placed wizards, just like Fudge was. This kind of harmful influence is exactly what Kingsley is trying to minimise.”

“And how does it work?” asked Harry. “Who votes for the Minister of Magic?”

“The Wizenmagot and the Guild Masters,” recited Ron.

“The what?” wondered Harry.

“All jobs in the wizarding world are divided into guilds, and each guild has a Master,” explained his friend. “Their role is to make sure that the trades that depend on them run smoothly and to discuss laws that concern them with the Ministry. And every five years, the Guild Masters sit down with the Wizenmagot to nominate the new Minister for Magic.”

“And you think they won’t vote for Kingsley?”

“In the Wizenmagot, we think that a part of them was bribed by our opponents and will vote against us,” answered Hermione. “Luckily, a good number of them agree with our ideas. There is still a marge that is still hesitating. Those wizards as well as the Guild Masters will be extremely sensitive to public opinion. It would be quite a problem if the _Prophet_ made Kingsley too unpopular…”

“And what is Kingsley planning to do to get more votes?” asked Ginny.

“That’s his weak point,” Hermione admitted. “He absolutely refuses to bribe the Wizenmagot judges with gold or job promises, and also doesn’t want to bargain different reforms that would advantage this or this guild. Kingsley’s greatest force is you, Harry. You have a great image in front of wizards and Kingsley regularly motivated wizards to fight in your name when he was talking on _Potterwatch_. If people start to believe that you’re an impostor, King’s position will be quite weak.”

Harry’s mouth hung open. He had thought that he was back to being a normal schoolboy, and now, Hermione explained to him that he was still a diplomatic stake. He felt his irritation grow.

“Can’t they let me in peace for five minutes!” he groaned. “Politics don’t interest me; I just want to pass my NEWTs!”

“If one day you’re an Auror, the orders you’ll receive will depend directly from the person that’ll have the post of Minister,” Hermione pointed out sharply. “What do you think? When Fudge was head of government, they were sent to arrest Dumbledore. Under Scrimgeour, they imprisoned so-called Death Eaters without any proof, just to pretend the Ministry was actually doing something. And last year, they captured people just because they had muggle relatives. Politics concern all of us, Harry. I thought you had understood it!”

“Yes, but it’s my name they’re using.”

“That’s just how it is, we can’t change it. So please stop moaning and let’s think about what we can do to save the situation.”

While seeing the rabid expression of his three favourite women, Harry thought that if Rita Skeeter’s goal had been to poison his life, she had managed quite well.

* * *

**Chat with J.K. Rowling, 30th of July 2007**

  * _I imagine she [Rita Skeeter] immediately dashed off a biography of Harry after he defeated Voldemort. One quarter truth to three quarters rubbish._
  * _Harry would ensure that Snape’s heroism was known. Of course, that would not stop Rita Skeeter writing ‘Snape: Scoundrel or Saint?’_

* * *

[1] Glanmore Peakes (1677-1761): Scottish wizard notorious for having slain the Sea Serpent of Cromer. (_Chocolate Frog Card_).

[2] Uric the Oddball: Uric was a strange wizard who lived in ancient times. Among other things, he was famous for wearing a jellyfish as a hat. No one knows if he meant to become the weirdest wizard of the ages or if it just came naturally. (_Chocolate Frog Card)_


	7. Passion vs Reason

**VII – Passion vs Reason**

_26th of December 1998 – 18th of April 1999_

* * *

**Chronology**

2nd of May 1998 : Battle of Hogwart

* * *

During dinner, the cursed article was the only topic of conversation. Hermione was worried, the Weasleys were outraged, and Harry simply wished they could talk about something else. Ron was scandalised that they could doubt of their adventure and of Harry's role in Voldemort's defeat. He was suggesting increasingly unlikely and stupid ideas for revenge when George suddenly interrupted him to ask:

"Hey Ron, what would you think of making quills that only write insults and automatically sign _Rita Skeeter – you'll never find anyone more evil and dumb!_"

There was a moment of astonished silence while everyone present took their time to appreciate this miracle. For the first time since his twin's death, George was suggesting a new idea for an item in his joke shop.

"Bloody hell!" Ron finally shouted. "That would be amazing!"

"We'd only need to use Smart-Answer Quills and to change up the jinx a little," George thought aloud.

"And we'll call it _The Viper Quill_," Ron completed. "_To hide in your classmates' bag_."

"We'll start working on them tomorrow."

The Weasleys smiled at their miracle child in a bemused and relieved look. Harry thought that if Rita knew she had done a good action this day, she would feel dishonoured.

As soon as the next morning, Hermione was back at the Burrow.

"I've had a small meeting with Kingsley. We had a look at several different ways to try and convince the guilds' representatives to support him and his arguments. We concluded that the most effective way would be to show ourselves in public places and to interest ourselves in other wizards' lives. That's how Fudge managed to get his post."

"And Shacklebolt wants to do the same?" wondered Harry.

"Promising change won't be enough of an argument for this," sighed Hermione. "Change often scares people. Just tell yourself that Kingsley doesn't like shaking hands any more than you."

The sentence's formulation woke up Harry's mistrust.

"What do you mean, _than I do_?"

"You'll be going with him."

"What? No, never!" said Harry as firmly as he could.

"You can't abandon Kingsley!" cried Ginny.

"There's no way I'm going to clown around and strut through the streets," Harry assured, stubborn.

He thought that if he did that, Snape would have all his reasons to call him arrogant… just before realising that Snape was dead. Unseated for a moment, he lost the flow of the conversation. When he managed to pull himself together and start listening again, Ginny still seemed to be pleading for him to put himself to show. Still under the shock of his thoughts, he snapped:

"And since when do _you_ care about politics?"

"Not everyone is as dim-witted as you are," she snapped back in the exact same tone.

"Calm down, children," Molly intervened, alarmed.

There was an awkward silence. Finally, Harry muttered:

"I'm sorry, Ginny."

"Harry," Hermione assured him, "we really understand what you're feeling. No one likes being put to show. But you have to go through there, that's all."

The next morning, Harry, crisped and embarrassed at once, was walking around Diagon Alley along with Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Ex-Auror seemed more at ease than him, but not happier about the situation.

They started by getting a Butterbeer at the Leaky Cauldron. Then, they slowly walked up the road by stopping for different small purchases: cauldron polishing potions, wormwood powder, Owl Treats, broomstick-cleaning combs, parchment rolls, a book about dragons, a new hat for Kingsley, a small ancient lamp, as well as Filibuster Fireworks. They also admired the postal owls and tickled the Puffskeins' bellies. After that, they went for an Ice Cream, greeted the goblins in Gringotts, had a tea or a sandwich in different cafes, chatted with different journalists in the _Daily Prophet_ headquarters – luckily Rita Skeeter wasn't there –, visited the old Ollivander, and were offered the very first _Viper Quills_ from Ron at the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

During this tour, they shook an uncountable number of hands and admitted that there was a lot to improve at the Ministry. They ruffled through children's hair and Harry realised with astonishment that some mothers were wrongly convinced that his touch protected against the evil eye. He wondered what the rational Hermione – who had blended into the crowd to evaluate their performance – would think about it. To his great disgust, he was also forced to hand out autographs. He pulled himself together and did it grudgingly, scribbling unreadable squiggles on the different props he was given. While Harry played happy and polite and received congratulations on his achievements, Kingsley answered questions about his political party.

When they came back to the Burrow, Harry sank down on the couch, exhausted.

"You've been great, Harry," Hermione complimented him. "Just try to smile a bit more tomorrow at Hogsmeade."

"I hate Rita Skeeter!" Harry replied fiercely. "Without this filthy article…"

"At least she gave us the idea to counterattack. We were too confident, I suppose," tempered Hermione.

"Don't forget to send her a letter of thanks when you'll be elected, Kingsley," Ginny suggested sarcastically.

"Thanks a lot, Harry," said Shacklebolt. "Are you sure he needs to come tomorrow?" he asked Hermione. "He's already done a lot."

"Don't worry, he'll have recovered before then," answered Hermione without pity.

"You're worse than Rita," Harry moaned. "Will I have to sign autographs again?"

"Just write _Rita Skeeter_ instead of your name," Ginny advised ruthlessly.

After Hogsmeade, they visited St Mungo's. Harry had come to the point where he was counting the days separating from his return to Hogwarts. He never would've thought that a week could be so long. Every morning, Hermione arrived with the whole of wizarding news. Harry refused categorically to read any newspaper, except _Which Broomstick?_ and – but very discreetly – _Virile Wizard_. He only listened to his friend's comments with half an ear. Then, she explained him the programs for the day.

He who had been hoping to spend more time with Ginny was now seeing her even less than at Hogwarts, spending his rare free moments with Teddy in his arms. Harry had even thought about slipping into his girlfriend's room once everyone was asleep. He really would've liked a little hug, in all honesty of course, as he didn't really want to seduce the young girl with her parents sleeping on the other side of the wall. But he feared that Ginny misunderstood his intentions and threw him out before he could even explain himself, just as much as he also dreaded Mrs Weasley's reaction if she ever found out about it. He therefore decided to rather renounce to this comfort. Luckily, feeling bad for him, Ginny often held his hand during the rare moments where he was at the Burrow, ignoring her brother's mocking looks.

New Year's Eve was a nightmare. It had been planned since long that there would be a grand evening in the Ministry's atrium to which everyone who had stood out during the war were invited, including fighters in the Battle of Hogwarts as well as those – ministry officials or simple wizards – who had rebelled against the old system in one way or the other. A medal was planned for every single one of them. Harry had to go together with the Weasleys to receive an Order of Merlin, First Class. In these conditions already, he really didn't want to go.

But someone imagined even worse. The program and protocol were modified at the last minute: Harry had to stand next to the Minister and he was the one to pin the medals onto the heroes' robes. He saw the Headmaster and professors of Hogwarts and briefly noticed Neville and his other friends without having the occasion to talk to any them in private. He exchanged a sad smile with the Weasleys when they filed passed him to receive their Orders and Fred's posthumous medal. While the assembly started to stuff themselves with food from the sumptuous buffet, his own stomach shouted for food, but he was too busy shaking hands and being presented to illustrious strangers to have time for eating.

At midnight, he was already thinking back nostalgically to the nice and quiet New Year's Eves spent in the Dursley's cupboard.

Luckily, even the worst moments have an end, and Harry went back to Hogwarts with relief. Obviously, the students' interest to his persona – which had started to fade away in December – experienced a spike in activity. While cursing Rita Skeeter and Hermione's good ideas, Harry marched through the corridors, his eyes focused on his destination, pretending not to hear any of the whispers. At the end of his first morning of lessons, while Harry was hurrying to meet Ginny in the Great Hall for lunch, Hagrid pulled him aside in the Entrance Hall.

"Harry! An owl jus' arrived fer ya."

Harry looked at the animal and recognised Andromeda's Eagle-Owl. Suddenly worried, he quickly detached the message. She was informing him that Teddy had spent a very bad night, waking up every half an hour in tears. Manifestly, he wasn't getting over his godfather's departure. Could Harry maybe send her a piece of clothing that smelt like him?

Harry didn't hesitate. He unbuttoned his school robe, pulled off the t-shirt he was wearing underneath – ignoring the intrigued looks of students passing by – and wrapped it in the parchment he had just received. He held everything together with the help of a bunch of Tying Charms and gave the packet to the messenger.

The next morning, the Eagle-Owl came back with reassuring news. Teddy had only woken up three times during the last night and refused to be separated from his new blanket. He really appreciated the animated Golden Snitch moving around on it and always followed the drawing with his eyes when he wasn't busy biting the fabric.

Relieved, Harry was about to tell Ginny about it when his girlfriend, who had jumped on the _Daily Prophet_, shouted:

"Harry, we won!"

"Won what?"

"Harry, please don't tell me you forgot that the elections for the new Minister took place yesterday afternoon?"

"Was Kingsley elected?"

"Yes! Only just, but he's elected!"

Harry savoured his joy while reading the newspaper's article and the triumphant letter Hermione had sent him. She was congratulating him and assuring him that thanks to him, a new wizarding world would be born. Harry hoped that no one would count on him too much to initiate any changes. He really didn't have a political soul.

While walking to his first lesson with Ginny, he told her about Andromeda's message about his godson. When he added that the child loved the moving motives of the clothing piece, the young girl frowned:

"You sent him the t-shirt I gave you for Christmas?"

"Yes, I was wearing it yesterday."

"Well that's amazing! I give you a present, and now it serves as a bib for Teddy!"

She briskly walked away, leaving him behind in the corridor.

"Don't worry," Dean – who was walking right behind Harry – reassured him. "With girls, you never do anything right."

Luckily, there was a Quidditch practice in the evening. Ginny forgot all her anger when she made a splendid demonstration of her new broomstick's capacities in front of the rest of the team, who were, as Harry noticed, half-amazed and half-jealous. When setting foot on the ground, the young girl jumped into Harry's arms, impassioned by her flight and full of gratitude towards the one who had made such an infatuation possible.

A few days later, Harry descended to the kitchens to say hi to Kreacher. He had the surprise of finding him with an Order of Merlin – Third Class – pinned to his chest. Winky was equally decorated. He suddenly realised that only wizards and witches had been present on New Year's Eve at the Ministry.

"When did you get your medals?" asked Harry.

"The chief wizard came to give them to us two days before the end of the year," Kreacher answered proudly.

Harry understood that Kingsley would've put his election in danger if he had invited magical creatures to London to honour them together with wizards. This left a bitter taste in the Boy Who Lived's mouth. He warmly congratulated the elves and shook every single one of their hands, with a lot more heart to it than at New Year's Eve. He then went to write to Hermione.

_I know it's unfair_, she admitted in her answer,_ but we can't do anything else. Remember that it's not because he likes power that Kingsley's trying to keep his position, but because he's hoping to improve their future status._

_He really did his best to congratulate all participants in the Battle of Hogwarts despite the narrow margin of manoeuvre that he has. On the 30th of December, he decorated the Hogwarts Elves in the Great Hall and went into the Forbidden Forest to officially thank the Centaurs. He bent down in front of Bane who seemed quite satisfied about that._

_Just think that it's in the measure of these restrictions that we're evaluating what we still need to do and that no one except us will do. When I look at everything we still need to do, I get dizzy!_

Harry hadn't felt particularly comforted by this message.

From time to time, Harry and Ginny managed to find a free moment in between all their different obligations and to escape the attention of their classmates and Filch. They often hid in a small room which Harry had discovered while looking for a passage from the Marauder's map that didn't exist since the last summer. It was very discreet – its door was hidden behind a curtain – and perfectly fitted their need: it had a little window that let in a little light and was filled with huge cosy bean bags on which they could cuddle up quite comfortably.

Far from looks and stares, they kissed a lot and talked a little. One day where they had managed to isolate themselves soon after the Christmas holidays, Harry asked:

"Did it help you to know a lot of secret passages thanks to your brothers last year?"

"And how! I escaped from the Carrows and Filch a lot of times like this when transporting forbidden tracts with Luna."

"And I was thinking you'd be safe here," said Harry in a disenchanted voice.

"So did my parents. In September, I would've liked to stay back with them; I was scared never to see them again if I left. But they wanted to put me in a safe place, so there was nothing I could do. They probably had quite a shock when they discovered that Snape had been named headmaster and that two Death Eaters had become professors."

"Did the Carrows hurt you?"

"Not too much. I didn't receive any _Crucios_, if that's what worries you. I got some slaps and kicks, but Madam Pomfrey fixed that with a flick of her wand. It's Neville who got the most."

"And Snape, how was he?"

"When thinking back, it's true that he wasn't too terrible. We didn't really get to see him that often, since he wasn't teaching anymore. The worst were the rules that he implemented. It was like during Umbridge's time: all groups and clubs were banned, professors were being watched. Just complaining about the new rules or showing solidarity to a disgraced person was enough to get a punishment or detention. It was worse than detentions with Snape: I had to walk around for a whole day with a sign saying _Blood Traitor_ around my neck. Neville had his ears elongated like those of a donkey for two days; Luna was cursed with Silencing Charm for a whole week… you get the idea."

"I'm sorry," said Harry, shaken. "I never knew it that was that hard."

"In a way, I preferred it that way. At least, I felt like I was participating, like I was in phase with my family. At the beginning of the year, a lot of students didn't care to know who was at the Head of the Ministry, but they soon understood that it meant having Death Eaters at the power. So there was an incredible reconciliation, discreet, but quite real. Neville, Luna and I received a lot of encouraging letters from people we didn't really know. One day, Owen Harper even lied to save me."

This information surprised Harry. Harper was in their year, but in Slytherin. Since he was a Seeker, Harry had the tendency of thinking about him as an enemy, and he never would've imagined him discreetly fighting against Death Eaters.

"At least, when your parents kept you with them after the Easter Holidays, they couldn't hurt you anymore."

"Yeah, and I found myself stuck between an anxious Mum and a completely unbearable Aunt Muriel. I almost became crazy. I had nothing else to do for the whole entire day except worrying about you and my family. When we were informed that Hogwarts was rebelling, I was on the verge of just running away and to going live with the twins in Diagon Alley."

A silence passed, as always when someone mentioned the entity that used to be called 'the twins'.

"I feel like George is starting to get better," said Harry softly to comfort her.

"Yes, a little. But it's still very hard. Ron's talking about it to Hermione: according to him, it happens quite often that George turns around briskly as if looking for Fred to talk to him. Sometimes, he stops in the middle of a sentence, but there's no one to finish it for him. In these moments, Ron feels powerless."

"He's already done a lot by spending his whole days with him," said Harry.

"Yes, and that's why it's difficult to support, even though he pretends everything is fine."

"And for you?"

"When I'm at school, it's fine. At Christmas, though, it was hard. But that's how it is. We were quite lucky, when you think about it. Other families were completely decimated."

They looked at each other, sharing their pain for those that had definitely left them and their happiness they had despite everything of still being alive and together.

Greyback's trial took place in the middle of February. Harry had wondered to see it being pushed back for so long – the most active Death Eaters had been condemned quite a while ago – and Hermione had explained to him that this affair was delicate for Kingsley:

_The reports of this audience will be showing a werewolf in all his horror: Greyback is cynical, violent, aggressive and hateful towards wizards and witches. Those who are opposed to werewolves' integration will have all the arguments they need. Since Kingsley is known for his pro-werewolf position, it would've been problematic if this trial had happened before he was confirmed in his post. That's why he arranged to push it back._

Harry had read these words with discomfort. And when the newspapers reported the trial in question, he realised with sadness that Hermione and Kingsley hadn't worried for nothing. Greyback gave the image of a monstrous criminal caricature. He regretted nothing, even justifying his actions:

_We're not ashamed of what we are. We're freer than you are. We don't want your little skimpy life. Every werewolf worthy of this name has to be able to run as much as he wants under the moon and follow his predator's instinct. You can condemn me; the others will avenge me and continue to make our population grow. One day, it'll be you who will live in the shadows! And we'll remember everything you made us go through!_

Nothing more was needed to create an anti-werewolf mindset across the country. The editorials and reader's letters in newspapers all asked for the same thing: increasing repression against lycans, and sometimes even preventive imprisonment.

_What's the ministry waiting for to protect us against these monsters? _one could read. _How can we stroll around wizarding locations while knowing that our children can pass these horrible creatures in their human disguise?_

"They're so stupid," Harry groaned, annoyed, and passed the newspaper to Ginny. "It's not when werewolves walk around in our streets that they're dangerous…"

Hermione was sickened:

_We can always cancel laws that limit jobs to which werewolves can apply, _she wrote to Harry, _no one will employ them any more than before. We can sign decrees telling people to treat them like anyone else, no one will actually obey. It's going to take us years to wipe away the fear and mistrust that this dangerous and crazy murderer has reinforced again. And when I think that he dares to affirm he's doing all of this for the good of his kind!_

Even without having Hermione in front of him, Harry could feel all the powerless rage that she had put in these three exclamation marks. Even he didn't manage to cheer up when Greyback was condemned to Azkaban for life. Only Ginny managed to find a positive point to the whole story:

"These bastards of Death Eaters won't sleep a lot on nights with a full moon, with a cell neighbour like him," she remarked. "I just hope he'll manage to bite a few of them."

Harry had had many occasions to congratulate himself on the present he had chosen for his girlfriend. Not only did it make the young girl very happy, but it also magnified her game. They beat the Ravenclaws without difficulty in the following match. When Ginny flew full speed towards the goals, multiplying pirouettes to get out the way of bludgers, the poor Keeper was completely petrified. The _Lightning Strike_ had an amazing capacity of changing directions, which made the shooting angle of its rider impossible to foresee. She hit her target at every try.

"It's an unfair advantage! These kinds of broomsticks should be forbidden in competitions!" the captain of the loosing team shouted once the match was over, clenching his teeth.

Harry had to admit it wasn't completely wrong and turned away his gaze.

"When Malfoy bought all Slytherins a Nimbus 2001 six years ago, they still lost to Gryffindor," Ginny snapped back. "If I can master my broomstick, it's because I'm good, that's all. So there's no point in looking for quarrel!"

The Chaser having the reputation of easily blasting Bat-Bogey hexes to whoever irritated her, no one replied.

In March, Hermione's boss, Hestia Jones, asked the young girl to present a document regarding House Elves in front of the Head of Departments and the Minister to possibly pass a series of laws that would improve their status. Still having it strongly at heart to educate Harry to politics despite the lack of interest he showed towards it, Hermione wrote to him before the Easter Holidays to explain to him in a lot of detail all the ideas she was planning to present to the assembly.

She had added a little water in her mead since the heroic times of the creation of S.P.E.W. Her diverse talks with elves had convinced her that freedom wasn't wished by most of them, _sadly influenced by their education and the prejudices that it created_. Hermione had learnt to favour efficiency and had understood that it was better to present this revolution in the wizarding world gradually.

She was therefore firstly suggesting to improve the working and living conditions of elves in thraldom. It would then be illegal for their masters to beat them, to mistreat them in any possible form, to deprive them of food or drinks and to separate children from their parents. Owners would also be held responsible of any aftereffects caused by auto-punishments that elves inflicted themselves. Depending on the gravity of the abuses, wizards and witches would risk fines and, in the case of really bad mistreatment or recidivism, they would lose their right of ownership over their victim and their whole family.

Above that, elves wishing for freedom could send a demand to the department of magical creatures who would look at the possibility of buying them from their owners. Financial encouragement would also be planned for Masters that freed their elves or paid them for their work.

Harry could feel Hermione's nervousness spike up in her letters as the date of her presentation was coming closer. It would be the first suggestion of a _modern _law that would be voted under Shacklebolt's administration. All the juristic modifications that had previously been carried out had only had the purpose of repealing the most scandalous regulations that had been implemented in the times of Fudge or Voldemort.

For the Easter Holidays, Harry went back to the Burrow with pleasure and happily saw Teddy again. He resumed the habit of spending his afternoons with the child who was coming closer to his first birthday. He could walk now and had to be looked after permanently, as he caught everything in range of his tiny hands.

This timetable left him all his mornings with Ginny, without any other company, as Mrs Weasley continued to look after her diverse community service actions. They exploited this peace and quiet to give their relationship a more intimate aspect. Harry felt slightly embarrassed when he found himself in the presence of the young girl's parents. He didn't know what they would think of it and, to be honest, just the idea of them thinking about it made him feel uncomfortable. He therefore tried to keep away from Ginny when they were close by, scared of giving it away.

When, after one of these cuddly mornings, he looked after Teddy with the help of the young girl, he surprised himself of thinking about a family life and promised himself to ask Ginny to come live with him as soon as they finished school. He could arrange Grimmaurd Place and they could meet there every evening…

This time, the holidays passed too quickly and it was with regrets that they boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Directly after the Easter Break, Hermione finally explained her project in front of the Council of the Heads of Department. The latter asked her precise question, proving that they seriously considered her suggestions. Harry's friend knew that not all her ideas would be noted, despite the huge restrictions she had already given herself when writing them down, but she nevertheless hoped that the first step would be decisive. Probably to test the public opinion, Kingsley had permitted reporters to attend the meeting.

Harry had waited for the _Daily Prophet_'s arrival with interest on the morning following Hermione's performance. It was shoulder against shoulder that he and Ginny read the article concerning her. The journalist had been charmed by the young ministry official, but less by the suggestions. He recalled the _slim silhouette crowned with untamed locks_, a _warm and passionate voice_, and a _lively, sensible and touching indictment_.

Despite that, he found that Hermione – _probably carried away by her heart of gold _– was going too far. _Yes, we are not savages and it is normal to watch that elves are not submitted to cruel treatments_, he wrote_. But considering their masters as responsible of the punishments they give themselves is going a step too far! How should we stop these creatures from following their nature? Permitting them to ask for their freedom would be misunderstanding to what point our little friends feel lost without clear directives. It would be doing them quite a bad favour to push them into asking for independence that they do not know how to use and to expose them to rejecting the protection of their legitimate masters._ The journalist was worried that their _natural gullibility_ could be exploited by people with bad intentions at heart.

"It's quite easy to stop them from punishing themselves," groaned Harry. "Just order them not to hurt themselves! And Dobby was doing quite well without clear directives!"

"Did you notice how he speaks about Hermione?" Ginny asked him.

"Do you think Ron will make us a jealousy fit?" Harry asked back, amused.

"It's not funny! He's presenting her as pretty and kind-hearted. How do you want people to take her seriously after that?"

"One can be pretty and clever."

"When someone talks of a woman's _passion_, it's always to oppose it to a guy's _reason_," estimated Ginny. "Even though one just needs to look at you and Hermione to realise at what point this stereotype is stupid!"

Feeling that their conversation was moving away from elves' future and engaging in a much more dangerous path, Harry left her the _Daily Prophet_ and concentrated on his breakfast.

In her next letters, Hermione mostly commented on different newspaper articles about her presentation. She had the same opinion as Ginny. She had been presented as more generous than competent, which discredited her project to the public. _I would've liked at least to shake the public opinion on elves' working and living conditions. But people continue to talk about their 'submissive nature' as if it was written in their genes, and I'm nothing more than a naturalist with a heart of gold._

Three weeks later, decrees on _The Treatment of House Elves_ were signed. They included the penalising of abusive treatments on elves, but didn't go as far as criminalising auto-punishments. They also gave the elves the rights to marry freely and imposed to all masters not to separate couples and families. A placement office had been created to control the employment of free elves and to put them in contact with wizards and witches needing their services. To end off, fiscal measures had been adopted in favour of those who paid them for their work, no matter whether it was their masters or simple employers.

Visibly, Kingsley had judged that his fellow citizens were not yet ready for him to permit himself to implement every single suggestion Hermione had made. The latter tried to look on the bright side. _I'm aware that it will take some time before elves dare to denounce their masters for mistreating them. But that the law clearly announces the illegal character of this kind of action is crucial for the evolution of mentalities. It's an important turn in the history of house elf living conditions._

The last Quidditch game of the year, the one that would decide on the winner of the House Cup, happened shortly after. It opposed Gryffindor to Hufflepuff. Helga's house had proved itself very good throughout the season and had beaten the other teams without problem, but Harry stayed calm. He wasn't worried about the other Seeker who wasn't particularly exceptional, even though he had a good technique. Yes, there was always something that could go wrong, be it dementors on the loose, a nitwit Keeper or anything else, but luck seemed to be on their side and Harry decided to trust his guardian angel. In addition, Ginny's broomstick was a considerable asset, and so was its owner.

It was harder than expected. Even though they didn't have an incredible Seeker or a racing broom, their opponents had excellent tactics and a solid teamwork. Their series of passes were so good that it was practically impossible to get the Quaffle back once they had it in their possession. On top of that, their beaters had taken Ginny as a target and she spent most of her time eschewing bludgers without being able to score.

After having encased five goals in a row, Harry asked for a time out and shouted at his players:

"What on earth are you doing? It looks as if you've never been on broomsticks! Ritchie and Tom, forget their Chasers and concentrate on their Beaters to stop them from aiming at Ginny. You better make sure that they don't touch any bludgers for the rest of the game, except straight in the head. Alyson and Demelza, take one Chaser each and tail them for the rest of the match. Don't worry about the rest; it should be enough to stop them from passing the Quaffle to each other. Ginny, you're playing as if you had a prehistoric broom! Move around a bit, catch the ball and throw it into their goddamn hoops! You're pathetic today!"

Ginny cast him a furious look and took off without waiting for any more orders from her captain. Harry didn't worry about it. He signed to the others to follow her while smiling to himself: he had managed to get her completely enraged; too bad for anyone getting in her way.

From this point, the game changed completely. The Hufflepuff Beaters, bombed by their counterparts, had to give up on marking Ginny. The adverse Chasers, completely marked, started making faults which Ginny exploited to retrieve the ball. After that, no one could stop her: neither bludgers nor players diving at her were fast enough to hamper her course. In front of the three hoops, she went off on aerial acrobatics to confuse the Keeper and the defensive players, feinted shots and, when the Quaffle finally left her hands, it was ten more points for Gryffindor.

The atmosphere was becoming electric in the tribunes. Exclamations of happiness, gasps of horror punctuated the brilliant risk-takings of the Chaser. Even the Hufflepuffs couldn't stay neutral: they shouted and held their breaths as loudly as everyone else in front of the youngest Weasley's performance.

Harry almost forgot to go look for the Snitch. His eyes fixed on his girlfriend, he had completely forgotten his own responsibilities and it was only when seeing the other seeker leave hastily into a hunt that he realised that he also had an important role to play. For a moment, he thought he wouldn't be there on time: his enemy had started before him and was dangerously coming closer to the Snitch. But being less experienced than Harry, he didn't anticipate a quick direction change of the golden ball and his fingers only managed to brush it. Harry, who was behind him but in a better position, picked it out of the air without a problem. They had won with 420 points to 50.

The Gryffindor tribune exploded into cheers. Harry flew towards Ginny. Their joint hands victoriously pointed towards the sky, surrounded by the rest of the team, they did a lap of honour above the public. When professor McGonagall, filled with pride, came to give them the Cup, Harry, feeling chivalrous and grateful, stepped away to let his star Chaser take hold of the trophy and hold it high above her head. Never before had he found her so beautiful.

It was party time for the rest of the day in the Gryffindor common room. Butterbeers miraculously appeared out of thin air and everyone forgot homework and studying. Quidditch, Lightning Strikes and Quidditch were the only conversation topics. Ginny was surrounded by so many people that Harry couldn't address her any single word for the whole afternoon. He looked her walk around, gracious and beaming, at the same time happy for her and a little jealous as well when other masculine students clapped her on the back to congratulate her or addressed her sweet compliments.

The next morning was more studious. Students suddenly remembered that they were at school and books timidly reappeared. Harry and Ginny were busy finishing off their potions homework when professor McGonagall, smiling mysteriously, came to fetch the young girl. After half an hour, Harry decided to go see what she was doing. He went to his Head of House's office and waited close by.

Ten minutes later, the door opened on Ginny, busy waving to a woman who seemed familiar to Harry with a radiant smile. The young girl came towards him and pulled him several corridors away.

"Oh, Harry," she finally said, "you saw who it was!"

"I didn't recognise her," he admitted.

"It was Gwenog Jones from the Holyhead Harpies! She wanted to meet me," Ginny told him in an amazed voice and jumping on the spot.

"Really?" asked Harry, astonished.

"Yes, Slughorn invited her to the match yesterday. She's offering me a post as Chaser in her team. I'll be a substitute to start off, of course, but…"

Harry raised his hand to interrupt her:

"You didn't accept!" he panicked.

"I said I'd think about it, but I don't see any reason to say no," she replied, her smile fading slowly.

"But Ginny…"

After their rapprochement during the holidays, Harry seen it as obvious that Ginny would accept to come and live with him once they left school.

"We won't see each other anymore!" he cried in despair.

"Why not?"

"You'll be living at their training camp and you'll be playing matches on Sundays!"

"But you'll also be working. Did you think I was going to stay at home like my mom?"

"Of course not! I thought you'd be in apprenticeship, like me, and that we'd spend our evenings and weekends together."

"We'll find some moments."

"But I want more!" Harry rebelled. "Why can't you choose a job that would permit you to live in London? I thought you wanted to be a Healer."

"I already told you that I don't quite have the needed levels in Herbology!" Ginny snapped back.

"Nurse, then."

"I don't want to be a nurse!"

"And Auror, doesn't that interest you anymore?"

"To be nothing more there than the Boy Who Lived's girlfriend? No thanks!"

"And why not…"

"Listen, Harry! I've just been made an offer I could never have hoped for. It's the chance of my life. I won't let it pass, not even for you."

Harry was dumbfounded.

"Are you breaking up?"

"What are you talking about? All I want is to have my own life for a while. I don't want to directly move from my parents' house to yours. I know you want us to start living together, but that can wait a while, don't you think?"

"I'll be in charge of the washing and cooking, if that's what bothers you," Harry engaged himself.

"That's not the point! I need fresh air, space, time to meet new people, to collect experiences…"

"Even in your love life?" Harry asked coldly, frozen by this new Ginny he didn't know.

"Stop bringing everything back to you! Are you doing it on purpose, or what?"

"I'm trying to understand, that's all!" cried Harry, exasperated by this conversation that was running away from his control.

"I want to do something which I won by myself. I've been training on my own for years, against everyone's will. This is my passion, my talent, my decision. I know St Mungo's or the Ministry are more honourable careers, but I don't care. I just want to really live freely, to fly with my own wings."

Tears were starting to form in Ginny's eyes.

"Don't you understand that I need to free myself?" she continued. "Would you prefer that I go to Egypt or to Romania, like Bill and Charlie? That I stop talking to my parents for three years, like Percy? That I run away from school, like Fred and George, or from home, like Ron?"

Harry looked at her with round eyes. He had never realised at what point the transition to adulthood of the Weasley brothers had happened brutally.

"You're thinking only of yourself instead of being happy for me," continued Ginny. "And that's just another proof that I should do this."

She furiously wiped away her tears and concluded defiantly:

"And if you can't understand it, too bad for you!"

Harry looked at her painfully, scared of not being able to talk with all the emotion that was clamping his throat together. He clumsily started:

"I never wanted to forbid you…"

"You can't forbid me anything anyways!" Ginny yelled with sparkling eyes.

Harry swallowed. He intuitively felt that what he would say next would augur of how their relationship would continue. He slowly articulated:

"If you're decided, there's nothing I can say."

She looked at him for a long time, her face without expression, before answering monotonously:

"I suppose that's all I can expect from you…"

She turned away from him and went back to their common room.

When Harry stepped back into Gryffindor tower, she was ferociously scribbling on a parchment. She didn't raise her head when he sat down and they finished their potions homework without a word. Nevertheless, they sat down next to each other for dinner in the Great Hall as usual, but participated in different conversations. While they were standing up, Dean whispered to Harry:

"You had a fight with Ginny?"

"That's not your problem," Harry snapped back dryly.

He later realised that Dean wasn't the only one to wonder about it. He had the impression that many groups of students whispered when looking in his direction. _Will I never be able to do anything without everyone talking about it?_ he asked himself with rage. In a flash of lucidity, he realised that that was maybe one of the reasons pushing Ginny to want to leave. Afflicted, he stared at the book he was studying for a long time without really seeing it.

* * *

**Chat with J.K. Rowling, 30th of July 2007**

o _She [Hermione] was instrumental in greatly improving life for house-elves and their ilk._

o _Kingsley became permanent Minister for Magic_


	8. A Formidable Opportunity

**VIII – A Formidable Opportunity**

_19th of April – 23rd of July 1999_

* * *

**Chronology**

2nd of May 1998 : Battle of Hogwart

* * *

Harry hung around melancholically for the whole of the following day, having trouble concentrating during lessons. He was painfully conscious of Ginny's rigid presence next to him, of her body that had become almost foreign to him, and of her absolute refusal to look into his eyes.

He didn't remember what he had written into the essays he had worked on the previous night, but he handed them in without rereading them. When leaving his last lesson, he hesitated on what he should do. He knew that he would be incapable of studying seriously. He would've liked to go for a walk in the park, but it was raining cats and dogs outside… His decision was pulled away from him when he felt a warm breath in his neck and a voice whispered:

"Let's go to the library."

He nodded and they walked off in silence, without holding each other's hands, but their shoulders touching sometimes. Right before arriving at their destination, Ginny turned away and pulled Harry into an empty classroom. She pushed him against a table on which he halfway sat down and planted herself right in front of him, almost touching him.

"I don't want us to be fighting," she said, looking into his eyes. "Can we start talking again?"

"I thought you were mad at me," he whispered, unsettled by her proximity.

"Well, that's over now," she assured him before muzzling her boyfriend's lips with hers.

When they left for the library again, one could've believed that nothing had ever happened. The following days, they worked together as usual, only allowing themselves very rare and short moments of relaxation. Harry nevertheless knew that nothing was sorted between them. But they still had six weeks left before the beginning of exams and he was determined to enjoy them. On top of that, he absolutely had to receive good marks in his five subjects and couldn't permit himself of being distracted by anything. He therefore decided to just live his life day by day, without worrying of what would happen later on.

But regularly, he couldn't stop himself from thinking that he had been quite badly inspired to get her this broomstick.

The second of May, anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, brought everyone that had fought on that day or had lost relatives a year ago to the castle. For the occasion, all lessons were cancelled and all concerned students could go and reunite with their family. Surprisingly, it was a rather nice day for Harry. A year had passed and he had accepted the death of his parents and friends. No regrets were making spots on their memory. The conversation he had had with their ghosts on that fateful day had convinced him that they loved him and were proud of him. Harry felt at peace when he thought of them.

He wasn't asked to play any particular role and could therefore walk around peacefully between the attending people, Teddy on his shoulders. He used the time to talk to his ex-classmates and friends. Neville recounted him how much he liked his job at an apothecary. He was in charge of growing the medicinal herbs that served as the base of their preparations.

"I also need to prepare some easy potions," he added. "I was a bit scared at the start, but everything ended up going well. Nothing to do with the lessons of the jerk that Snape was! Oh, sorry Harry!"

"Don't worry, I know that he was a detestable and unfair teacher," Harry smiled.

Lavender, after being recommended by professor Trelawney, worked in a shop that sold divination artefacts. She too was very satisfied of her job.

"I've been meeting very interesting people," she confided to Harry. "But some of the people that come in are real impostors, I can see it at first glance."

Harry nodded gravely, trying not to look in direction of Trelawney that was still benefitting of the definitely not merited respect from her student.

Angelina Johnson, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, Alicia Spinnet and Seamus Finnigan had joined the Aurors. They all walked past Harry at different times to tell him that they were impatiently waiting for him to join them. Harry at first wondered about the number of his friends that were now practising this job, but he remembered that Kingsley had told him he would have a big cleaning up action in the ranks of the Dark Wizard Catchers. He had probably needed to replace all those that had left.

After having chatted to his friends, Harry walked back towards the Weasleys, who had stayed grouped together with Andromeda. For them, it was a difficult day. Once again, Harry felt his incapability of supporting them mentally in these kinds of circumstances. He tried to get closer to Ginny, but she seemed to prefer her brothers' presence to his.

Hermione took Harry's arm and walked away with him.

"I think they need to be here, but they don't want to talk about it," she whispered to him.

Harry looked at his best friend who usually rested on Hermione when he was in distress. Right now, he was looking at the lake, his eyes empty.

"I feel like Ron isn't supporting the shock as well as last year," Harry worried.

"A year ago, he hadn't quite realised it yet. Since then, he's worked like crazy at the shop and used up all his energy to keep George afloat. I think he's finally taken measure of his brother's absence," Hermione explained sadly.

"Only now?" Harry wondered.

"Not everyone reacts in the same way."

"What can we do?" he asked.

"Not a lot, sadly. He has to mourn, like everyone else. Don't worry, he'll get over it," she affirmed as if she wanted to convince herself.

Ron's sudden realisation perturbed Harry more than anything else had. He wondered whether he himself wasn't incredibly insensible. Shouldn't he be feeling more depressed by the commemoration of his friends' death? He had loved and appreciated Fred, Remus, Tonks, Dobby and Dumbledore. Colin had been a good buddy, even though they weren't especially close. Why wasn't he feeling sad about it anymore?

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione said softly. "Ron will recover and accept what happened, like you."

"Like me?" he repeated in a bitter tone. "You want him to forget, like me?"

She looked at him, taken aback, before saying forcefully:

"Yes, of course, Harry. There's no point of feeling guilty or of refusing to live because others didn't have this chance! What would we have done if you hadn't gotten over your parents' death, or that of Sirius and Dumbledore? Do you think you acted wrongly by fighting the way you did?"

"No, of course not!"

"They died for us to be happy. It wouldn't be treason to do exactly that!"

"Okay. Thanks Hermione."

"No problem," she said, squeezing his arm. "So," she changed the topic, "how about we let Teddy walk a bit?"

The child was still perched on his godfather's shoulders, thrilled to have a panoramic view over the assembly. He had saluted every single of Harry's conversation partners with gurgles and had replied to whoever complimented him with huge smiles. The young man put him down on the grass and Teddy hurried to start a demonstration of his newest life skill: walking on two legs. He had the tendency of falling down every two metres, but always stood up again bravely and continued his course. Harry spent the next fifteen minutes running after him. They ran around, zigzagging through the attendants of the ceremony. Some attendants started to talk to Harry when he was waiting for his godson to stand up after one of his falls, but Harry left again in a hurry as soon as the child resumed his quest, worried of losing him in the crowd.

Gradually, the rows of people cleared up as wizards and witches started going home. Harry and Ginny hugged the Weasleys, Hermione and Andromeda goodbye before they left, then returned to their Common Room.

Harry tried his best to comfort Ginny during the days that followed. Luckily, the young girl stayed strong and soon dived back into schoolwork. Weeks were starting to pass by faster and faster as the dates of exams were coming closer. A few days before the beginning of these trials, Ginny left to Hogsmeade for half a day and came back happy to have passed her Apparition Test.

The arrival of examiners at Hogwarts made Harry and Ginny nervous. They started devoting themselves completely to their exam papers, testing each other's knowledge maniacally between each session. The period of written exams finally ended and they tackled the practical tests. Harry was quite satisfied with his performance in transfiguration: he was asked to change a lighter into a miniature dragon and he had seen some from close enough for his representation to be pinpointedly accurate. He hoped that it would balance out the theoretical part in which he had forgotten one or two details.

He managed quite well in Charms – his determined work had paid off. He did a little confusion in Herbology, but the examiner didn't seem to find it dramatic. His potion was quite correct, maybe left on the fire for half a minute too much, but that only made it thicker, without any impact on its efficiency. He wasn't asked much in Defence Against the Dark Arts: to his great astonishment, all he needed to do was to cast an _Expelliarmus_.

"Is that it?" he asked when his examiner indicated that the challenge was over. "Don't you want me to do anything else?"

"For you, I think it's enough," answered Griselda Marchbanks with a huge smile. "I'll give you an O."

After having slept in on the day after their last exam, Ginny and Harry went to get some fresh air in the park. On the side of the lake, they sat down side by side in the grass. After having let a moment of silent pass, Harry asked:

"What are you planning to do, next month?"

"Get some holidays," she answered, her gaze fixed on the water that was rippling at their feet.

Harry didn't dare to insist, scared that she would interpret his questions in the wrong way. But the young girl continued the conversation after a short while, without looking at him:

"I'll go back to the Burrow to get some rest. In ten days, I'm meeting the president of the Harpies and we'll sign our contract. After that, I'll announce it to my parents."

She waited for a few seconds to pass before looking at him and asking:

"You won't tell them anything before that?"

Harry needed a while before he understood what she was worried about:

"Are you worried that I would spill the beans so that they can try to stop you?"

"I know they won't understand."

"But you really think I would do that?" Harry repeated with anger. "What are you thinking of me?"

Ginny blushed. She lowered her eyes and whispered, embarrassed:

"You seemed so opposed to that idea. I was just scared, suddenly…"

Harry didn't answer. He felt hurt by her defiance and preferred to stay quiet rather than say what he had on the heart.

"Please try to understand, Harry," Ginny pleaded while pulling out a tuff of grass in a nervous gesture, "I know everyone will be against me. Do you think it amuses me to know that I'll have to fight against my family?"

"I'm sure Hermione will support you," Harry grumbled, still irritated, but touched despite himself by the feebleness he could hear in her voice.

"I'd prefer it if you were the one who supports me," Ginny whispered.

Her face crisped as if she was stopping herself from crying and she turned away.

Harry breathed in deeply, trying to put some order into his thoughts and feelings. He didn't want to lose Ginny; that was obvious to him. But he was scared that living separately would bring distance between the two of them. But on the other side, he could feel that she would never forgive him if he didn't support her in her dream.

He saw her again, during his fifth year, sharing her Easter egg with him to lift his spirits, assuring him that she would do her best for him to be able to speak to Sirius. He remembered the following year, where she had accepted their breakup without protesting, understanding why their relationship was becoming too heavy for him. She also hadn't even tried to hold him back when he had wanted to leave with Ron and Hermione, even though she probably had been frustrated not to be able to help him like his friends were doing.

In the end, what she was awaiting from him was what she herself had given him so often: a support without limits and an acceptance of her choices. He wondered whether it had been as hard for her back then as it was now for him. He got closer to her and hugged her tight. She didn't move, continuing to fix the lake in front of them.

"I'll help you," Harry said simply.

"Really?" she said immediately, turning towards him.

"Yes. If it's important to you, you have to do it," he forced himself to affirm.

"Oh, Harry, I love you," she shouted and hugged him back.

He moved closer to her and couldn't stop himself from whispering:

"Do you think that us two will hold?"

He was worried that she would blame him again for only thinking of himself, but she admitted:

"It scares me as well. I don't want to ruin everything between us. But I know that if I don't do this, I'll regret it."

Regrets were something that Harry understood. He had had enough of them to know at what point they could poison everything.

"I hope that professional Quidditch players have holidays," he sighed.

"If they don't, I'll start a petition to change it," Ginny promised with a little laugh.

That year, it was Hufflepuff who won the House Cup. Without any astronomical point removals inflicted by an irritable potions teacher or any heroic non-academic achievements, the competition between the Houses had been slightly dull, and it had been hard work and effort that had determined the winner.

Quidditch had permitted to the Hufflepuffs to only just come before the Ravenclaws. The Gryffindors, sadly, only came in third place despite their performance in sports, handicapped by the chronic indiscipline that characterised them. The Slytherins came last, the general hostility being towards them – even though the Headmaster tried his best to condemn any aggressive attitudes towards the Green and Silvers – which caused the younger students to hardly dare to even answer questions in class, which had stopped them from gaining points during lessons.

In the train bringing them back home, Harry asked Ginny whether she realised that it was their last journey in the Hogwarts Express.

"Not really. I mean in general, this year was just weird. You in my class, Colin missing… You know that I'm happy about what I'll do after this… And you?" she added quickly, not wanting to talk about the sensible topic.

Harry accepted to not epilogue about Ginny's future and instead analysed what he was feeling:

"I'm also having trouble to consider this year as normal without Ron and Hermione. It was more like an obligatory passage to pose my application as an Auror. It would've been way too long if you weren't there. Now, I'm looking forward to becoming an Auror, but I'll miss you…"

"I'm not planning of disappearing from your life," Ginny promised him, which only half-comforted him.

It was with joy that they reunited with their family. Charlie, who had come to congratulate them, left on Sunday evening and left Molly to complain about children that went to work far from their parents. Harry noticed that Ginny clenched her teeth every time her mother repeated this phrase. He knew that he should feel sorry for her, but a part of himself – of which he wasn't proud – rejoiced to see her suffer as well from her decision.

He felt even more irritated by the situation as he had hoped that their return at the Burrow would permit them to resume the loving interludes they had started during their last holidays, but Molly's permanent presence, who had temporarily abandoned her occupations to make them feel at home, stopped them from having any intimate moments.

On the following Saturday, Ginny had to pretend to have shopping to do so that she could go to the planned meeting with the president of the Harpies and the team Captain. Harry, despite the lack of enthusiasm he felt towards this project, accompanied his girlfriend to Hogsmeade. While they were approaching the Three Broomsticks, Ginny slowed down and stopped dead at about twenty metres of their goal.

"What's wrong?" Harry worried.

"Do you think I should do it?" she asked in a strangled voice.

He looked at her with surprise. Her strong assurance seemed to have vanished into dust and, for the first time in his life, he saw indecision in her eyes. His heart sank and he couldn't help but give her the encouragement she needed:

"Go for it! It's the right choice."

"But if I'm not good enough, in the end?"

"They'll find you amazing," he assured her. "It's your ex-captain who tells you that."

"And Harry, what does he tell me?"

"He's sad to see you leave, but he knows that if you don't go for it, you'll irritate him even more."

Ginny had a shy smile and continued walking towards the pub. On the doorstep, she stopped for a moment. Harry was about to offer her to enter the room with her, when she pulled her shoulders together, opened the door and entered resolutely.

"I'll meet you here!" Harry only just had time to shout.

The door crashed close behind her. Harry stayed in the street for a short moment, hesitating on what to do while he was waiting. Then he had an idea and walked off. While walking into the bar, he noticed that the customer base hadn't changed: still just as sketchy.

He sat down at the counter and the barman turned towards him:

"Oh, look who we have here!"

"I was wondering how you were doing," Harry told him.

"What d'ya want me to be doing? With a hundred years and some specks, I'm in my best years."

Harry smiled. Aberforth vaguely wiped his counter with a dirty cloth and remarked:

"In the end, you managed to do what my brother asked you to."

"I think so, yes," Harry slowly answered while wondering why his conversation partner was saying this.

"But it hasn't been easy."

"I've had unexpected help," the Boy Who Lived tempered.

"Other victims of Albus, I suppose," the old man insinuated in an acid voice.

Harry was about to protest, but he thought back to Snape.

"We knew the risks," he preferred to say. "Dumbledore didn't tell us everything, but we knew at what point it was dangerous. I don't regret to have listened to him."

As the other fixed at him without answering, Harry added:

"He really regretted his errors."

"That won't fix them," grumbled Aberforth. "But I suppose you aren't really concerned about all of that," he recognised in a softer voice.

The old man let a few seconds pass before he admitted:

"You've done some good work, I guess."

He grabbed his cloth again, then suddenly raised his eyes and asked:

"That ginger who lost his twin. How's he doing?"

The warmth that had invaded his interlocutors' blue eyes reminded Harry of his old Headmaster and he had to swallow a few times before answering:

"He's changed a lot. We managed to get him to keep his shop open, but it's his brother Ron who's doing most of the work."

"I liked them a lot, those two," the man sad in a nostalgic voice. "They always came here to get some Butterbeers when they were planning a party. Rosmerta's nice an' all, but she would've been capable of turning them in. We'd always chat a while, and they'd keep me updated on their latest inventions. I even taught them one or two tricks that their mum wouldn't approve of."

Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling. It was true that this duo of troublemakers must've been good friends with this cynical misanthropist.

"Something to drink?" the old man asked.

"I wouldn't mind a Butterbeer," Harry accepted.

"You're an adult, now," Aberforth contradicted him while serving him a glass of Firewhiskey.

Harry was staggering a little but thought that life was quite amazing when he carefully left his stool to go and find Ginny. She was already outside and was looking around for him when Harry finally joined her.

"And?" he asked her.

"I signed!" she answered with a huge smile, all her hesitation having visibly vanished.

"Congratulations!" he shouted and gave her a clap on the back.

"Say, what have you been doing during that time?" she asked suspiciously.

"I've had a small discussion between men."

Ginny didn't have to wait long before revealing the news to her family. On the very next day, Bill and Fleur joined them for a Sunday Lunch. The young girl waited for dessert time before she declared:

"I met Gwenog Jones, yesterday, at Hogsmeade."

"The Captain of the Holyhead Harpies?" Ron shouted. "Did you get an autograph?"

"No, but I gave her one," Ginny answered.

A surprised silence followed her words. Then Bill continued, as if he was participating in some joke:

"She saw you play on your new broomstick?"

"Yes, and she offered me a post as a Chaser," Ginny added with a smile.

Another silence.

"Are you joking?" asked Ron.

"I have a contract," Ginny assured.

"You signed something?" Arthur worried. "You should've talked to us about it beforehand, darling. You're not used to juridical documents."

"There must be a mistake!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed. "Why would anyone offer you a post at the Harpies, Ginny?"

"Maybe because I'm quite gifted at Quidditch," her daughter answered.

"But come on, they're professionals!" Molly reminded.

"Then I'll be one as well," her daughter stated.

"My darling," Mr Weasley intervened, "could you show me what exactly you signed?"

Ginny stood up to go fetch the paper from her room.

"It's out of question that we let her do that!" Molly shouted. "Someone needs to get that document cancelled."

"We should ask Charlie to get her an apprenticeship in his Dragon sanctuary," Bill suggested jokingly. "Maybe it'll get her to forget about Quidditch."

"It's not funny," affirmed Molly while smiles started to appear all around the table.

"Mom, there are worse jobs than professional Quidditch player," Bill insisted.

"The 'Arpies robes will go very well with 'er 'air," Fleur added.

"A lot of players end up having a successful career at the Ministry later," Percy tried to comfort her.

"D'you think we'll get places to see all her matches?" cried Ron enthusiastically.

Harry thought that Ginny had been quite pessimistic in assuming that all her family would be opposed to her choice. In the end, it was only Mrs Weasley and him who were sad of her departure. He was troubled to find himself alone in the ranks of family mothers.

"There is no way that Ginny will become a harpy," Molly insisted.

At this moment, her daughter passed behind her and dropped her contract in front of her father. Arthur smiled reassuringly and started to read the parchment.

"Ginny, you're not seriously doing this madness?" Molly started.

"And why not?"

"You've got a good broomstick, but you don't have their level."

"So you know better than their coach, right?"

"I wouldn't mind more dessert," Ron interrupted them.

Everyone held out their plates, but Molly superbly ignored the attempt to distract her and changed her tactic:

"And you, Harry, what do you think?"

"Err?" said the Boy Who Lived, taken by surprise.

He saw his girlfriend's pleading look and decided not to disappoint her:

"I agree with Ginny," he affirmed in a voice that hopefully didn't sound too fake. "It's an amazing opportunity."

"But she'll be gone for months!" Mrs Weasley cunningly underlined.

Harry clenched his teeth and answered, using the arguments that Ginny had used on him:

"I'll also be busy if I join the Auror office."

"You really want her to do this?" Molly insisted, visibly only half-believing him.

"I'm very proud of her," he bravely affirmed, hoping that one day he'd manage to convince himself of what he was saying.

"This seems correct to me," Mr Weasley ended up by declaring, holding up the parchment. "Now that Ginny signed, she will have to pay penalties if she doesn't stick to it, except in case of sickness of pregnancy. I hope none of these excuses will have to be used," he added while casting Harry a quick glance, leading the latter to blush. "The salary she'll be getting is quite high, especially for a first job."

"When will you be starting?" Percy asked, stopping his mother from speaking again.

"In fifteen days. The League Cup has already started and I'll see how it runs from inside. But my real training will only begin in September."

"Congratulations, Ginny," Hermione ended off, raising her glass.

Everyone followed the movement, except Mrs Weasley who obstinately kept her teeth clenched while everyone drank to the Harpies' last recruit.

The following days were tense between mother and daughter. Molly even was in the sulks with Harry, who found this kind of unfair. Was he not the one to suffer the most from Ginny's decision? Stuck between his girlfriend who was humming while preparing her trunk and his adoptive mother who spoke to him coldly, he felt quite misunderstood.

Luckily, Mrs Weasley wasn't always at home, and when they were finally alone, Ginny was prone to show Harry how much she would miss him. It was a consolation, but quite a meagre one in comparison to what Harry had discounted. Ginny nevertheless gave him a streak of hope during one of these privileged moments:

"When are you planning of settling down on your side?" Ginny asked, curled up in his arms.

"There's no hurry," he answered bitterly. "Why would I want to come home every evening in an empty house?"

"You could always come back to the Burrow when you feel lonely. But when I'm free on the weekends, an empty house for the two of us doesn't seem like that bad of an idea!"

"Aren't you playing on Sundays?" he asked, surprised.

"Not every week."

Harry suddenly felt his mood spike up.

"You'd come and visit me at my place if I moved into Grimmaurd Place?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course. It would be a lot more peaceful than here if we just want to be by ourselves."

"Your parents will end up suspecting something after a while," Harry remarked.

Ginny broke into laughter.

"You really think they don't suspect anything yet? They aren't idiots."

"Are you sure they know?" Harry panicked.

"I don't think that the conversation I had with mum about contraceptive charms during the Easter holidays was completely random. And do you think you're the only one who noticed that Ron regularly comes home at six o'clock in the mornings? Another one who thinks he's discreet…"

"And it doesn't bother them?" Harry worried.

"They like you a lot, you and Hermione, and I'm sure they know that there would be no point to try and stop us or something. When they were our age, they were already married and Bill was on his way."

Harry felt quite embarrassed. He would never again dare to look at Mr and Mrs Weasley in the eyes!

A few days before Ginny's departure, they received their exam results. Harry was suddenly reminded that his whole career depended on his marks. This remembrance made him so nervous that it took him several long seconds to read the annotations. He had obtained E's in Herbology, Transfiguration and Potions. Two beautiful O's rewarded his efforts in Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"And?" Ginny asked.

"Three E's and two O's… It's good," he rejoiced. "I'll be able to apply as an Auror."

"Well done, Harry! You'll be an amazing Auror!" she congratulated him, jumping into his arms."

"And you?" he asked after a few seconds of hugging her.

"O's in Defence and Transfiguration. And E's in my other subjects."

"We're the best!" he bragged, satisfied to realise that the long hours they had spent studying and working, which could've been devoted to much more enjoyable activities, had in the end been worth it.

"Two O's and three E's!" Molly cried, ecstatic. "Oh, my darling, you could've had all the jobs you wanted."

"But I'll be doing the one I want!" Ginny snapped back, annoyed.

"How about we have a celebration meal this evening," Harry interrupted.

"Good idea," Molly accepted.

"I'll bake a cake," Ginny offered.

When her mother had left the room, Ginny whispered into Harry's ear:

"I'll make a broomstick out of icing on top," she warned him in a ferocious tone. "That'll teach her!"

* * *

**Chat with J.K. Rowling, 30th of July 2007**

o _[Aberforth] is still there, at the Hog's Head._

o _[Ginny worked for] a few years as a celebrated player for the Holyhead Harpies._


	9. Installations

**IX – Installations**

_25th of July– 11th of August 1999_

* * *

**Chronology**

2nd of May 1998 : Battle of Hogwart

* * *

On the evening before the Quidditch player's departure, Harry felt extremely depressed. He was exhausted by the efforts he had made to hide the aversion he felt towards his girlfriend's project. The moment where she would leave was looming on him even more than ever before, even though the young girl had told them often that she'd be coming back on Saturday in two weeks' time – her team wouldn't be playing on that day. But Harry and Ginny had been seeing each other every day for almost a year now and he knew that he would miss her a lot.

Bill and Fleur had dinner with them on that evening to wish Ginny good luck. Harry didn't do the meal the honours it deserved and was relieved when it was time to go to bed. His girlfriend's delighted look had been hard to deal with.

The young man had been lying on his bed for an hour, shifting around and trying to find sleep, when the door opened softly and a silhouette tiptoed into the room.

"I can't sleep," Ginny admitted in a puny voice.

"Too happy to be able to fall asleep?" Harry grunted in a sulky voice.

Ginny pushed him to make place for her on the mattress before she answered:

"No, I'm nervous."

"Now I need to cheer you up, on top of everything," Harry protested, having reached the limits of his kindness.

"Just hug me tight," she asked him.

Harry obeyed and took her in his arms, not finding this program worth of protesting about.

"We'll write regularly," she promised, her nose in his neck.

"It's not the same."

"I'll also miss you, you know."

"But you're still leaving."

"And you, you're becoming an Auror. You wouldn't drop all of that for me, would you?"

"Listen, Ginny, if you're trying to convince me that you're right, there's no point. I told you that I agree with you, I encouraged you to sign the contract and I've been spending the last two weeks affirming to your mother that I'm delighted that you're leaving, so no morals, please!"

Ginny stayed silent for a moment before declaring:

"I need to thank you for not letting me down. I've been asking for a lot."

"Yeah, yeah, it's normal," Harry admitted. "It's just… I don't want you to leave."

"It doesn't please me either to be separated from you, but I know that I made the right choice," Ginny assured him. "So let's enjoy being together while we can, okay?"

When Harry woke up the next morning, she was already up. It was Mr Weasley who accompanied her to Holyhead. He wanted to see with his own eyes where his daughter would be living and chat to those who were employing her.

The family's father came back quite satisfied. He had quite liked the club's president. The sports installations were new-fangled, and the trainer and the nurse that looked after the players' health had seemed competent to him. Mr Weasley had also been introduced to Ginny's future roommate and she had made a good impression on him. Harry wondered what could make him feel better in the same way as Mr Weasley was reassured. When he didn't find an answer, he took his motorbike to go for a ride in the environing fields.

* * *

As soon as he had seen his exam results, Harry had posted his application form for the Auror office, accompanied by a cover letter. A few days after Ginny's departure, he was called to the Ministry for a job interview. He went there using Floo Powder and was received in a small room on level two.

Two men and a woman were sitting side by side behind a large mahogany table. Their faces looked familiar to Harry: he had seen them at different commemorations and had pinned medals onto their chests a few months ago. _It shouldn't go too badly,_ he thought to himself.

"Please, take a seat, Mr Potter," the president of the Jury, a middle-aged man with short grey hair, invited him while pointing to a chair in front of him.

Harry obeyed, trying to smile to hide his nervousness.

"Our goal is to establish whether your profile suits the function of Auror," said Grey-Haired Man without abandoning his stern expression. "Did you know that you have an impressive criminal record?"

"Err, really?" was everything that Harry could say. He had hoped that all his troubles with the Ministry's old authorities would have been wiped away.

"At fourteen years of age, you passed a disciplinary hearing for usage of magic in front of Muggles. You have finally been declared innocent," Grey-Haired Man started. "A few months later, you were suspected of having formed a riotous group at Hogwarts, disobeying to Education Decree number twenty-four. But professor Dumbledore affirmed that he was the only one responsible and the procedure was not brought to an end. When you were seventeen years old, you were declared Public Enemy Number 1. On top of that, you are suspected of having broken into the Ministry without permission using Polyjuice Potion one and a half years ago, where you would've accomplished acts of vandalism. A few months after that, many testimonies point you out as the leader of a burglary in Gringotts Bank. What do you have to say to that?"

Harry felt himself blush from discomfort and irritation.

"I hope that, err, I won't have any trouble with law anymore," he commented, refusing to justify himself.

The closed faces of his interviewers didn't permit him to see whether this response was good or not.

"What would you do if you received orders in contradiction with your convictions?" attacked the other wizard, a slightly younger man with dark and curly hair.

"I think I would let people know," Harry said slowly.

"Would you obey to the directives you received?" his opponent insisted.

Harry gave himself a few seconds to think about it.

"It depends on the consequences of those actions," he ended up by answering truthfully. "If it was detrimental to innocents, I don't think I would obey."

"Are you conscious that Aurors are submitted to their hierarchy?" Black-Haired Guy insisted. "You won't be able to work alone like you are used to doing."

"But I would've appreciated having some more help," Harry cried, exasperated of always and always having to justify the actions that the circumstances had forced him to accomplish.

"Mr Potter," asked the witch, who was wearing a large green headband over her right eye, "it seems that you are used to being in charge."

"Me?" Harry asked, surprised. "No, not really."

His interviewers seemed sceptical:

"Didn't you form and command the group known under the name of Dumbledore's Army?" asked Green-Headband Lady. "Didn't you lead Hogwarts' revolt last year?"

"It was Neville Longbottom who started the insurrection and the professors organised everything," Harry corrected them. "As for Dumbledore's Army, it was created by Hermione Granger. I was only giving tips, I wasn't commanding anyone."

"All those young people declared to be ready to follow you."

"Oh," was all that Harry found to say.

"Do you know, at least, that we now have a certain number of them in our ranks?" asked Black-Haired Guy.

"Err, yes, but that's not my fault."

The wizards and the witch looked at each other, visibly amused.

"Do you know why the Auror office has been recruiting so little people in the last years?" asked Grey-Haired Man.

"No," Harry admitted.

"Because Hogwarts wasn't forming its students well enough in Defence Against the Dark Arts," explained Black-Haired Guy.

Harry thought that, seeing the professors that had succeeded each other during his school time, it wasn't surprising.

"Last year," Grey-Haired Man continued, "since we were running out of staff, we decided to offer a post to everyone who participated in the Battle of Hogwarts, considering that it served them as their entrance exam. We were happy to note that they all had excellent bases in duelling. They affirmed that you were the one to teach them."

It took Harry several seconds to take in these informations.

"You made an offer to all the members of the DA who fought in the battle of Hogwarts?" he asked for confirmation.

"All of those who didn't go back to school to finish their studies," Grey-Haired Man pointed out.

"Did you ask Ron Weasley?" Harry insisted.

The examiners looked at each other and Black-Haired Guy ended up answering:

"Yes, we did. But he refused."

Harry lowered his eyes to keep his emotion hidden. _Ron,_ he thought to himself, _why are you always so quiet about your most heroic actions?_

"He would've been an amazing Auror," he said softly.

"The best Aurors are the ones who want to be Aurors," Green-Headband Lady replied.

_But he wanted to!_ Harry wanted to shout. In his head, he saw his best friend during fifth year, when he had expressed this wish during the orientation interviews.

"Mr Potter, do you wish to become an Auror?" the witch asked him.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied, pinching his leg to bring himself back to the present.

"Do you think you have the needed qualities?"

"I hope so," he assured her with all the conviction he could possibly find.

"In your opinion, what are the qualities we are looking for in our candidates?" she asked.

"A good level in Defence, like you were saying just now," Harry started. "The will to pursue Dark Wizards," he continued. "Knowing how to investigate…"

He stopped, not knowing what to add.

"Physical fitness, discipline, method, capacity of analysing a situation and putting a plan into action," continued Black-Haired Guy. "Do you think you possess these qualities?"

_Fitness? _Harry asked himself. _I guess so, yeah. Discipline? I suppose I'll be able to learn that. Method? Hum! Analyse? Every once in a while. Plans? Yeah, I think I can follow Hermione's plans. Mostly._

"I think so," he affirmed, trying to seem convinced.

"Have you ever used Unforgivable Curses?" Grey-Haired Man asked suddenly.

Harry, surprised, felt his cheeks go hot. He considered lying and saying no, but the examiners' faces told him that he had already given it away.

"It has happened to me," he recognised.

"Which ones?"

"The _Imperius_ and the _Crucio_," he admitted while wondering whether he was definitely ruining his chances of being accepted.

"Not the _Avada_?" asked Black-Haired Guy.

"Of course not!" Harry protested, scandalised.

"Even against You-Know-Who?"

"I already explained publicly that Voldemort killed himself with his own curse!"

He had pronounced the taboo name on purpose, but he was disappointed: none of the three seemed troubled by it.

"So, why the Cruciatus Curse?" Black-Haired Guy insisted.

"Because Carrow was a bastard and he had been a cruel asshole during the whole year," Harry spat while thinking that he didn't have that much to lose anymore.

"Voldemort used the _Avada_ a lot," Grey-Haired Man replied calmly. "He used it against your parents and against you."

"I never wanted to become a murderer just because of that," Harry snapped, irritated. "He was the one who wanted to kill me. If I could've defeated him otherwise, I would've done it."

"Is that why you offered him to surrender?"

"Yes, I had to do it, even though I knew he would never accept to do it."

"This _Crucio_ and _Impero_. Were they essential?" Green-Headband Lady asked again.

"I don't see what I could've done without the _Impero_. It was important and I didn't want to injure anyone," Harry justified himself.

"And the _Crucio_?" Green-Headband Lady asked again.

Harry hesitated. He thought of the scene again and admitted:

"I suppose I could've stunned him. But I had only just learnt he'd been torturing my friends and he was busy attacking a person I really appreciate."

"In your eyes, is that enough of a justification?" asked Grey-Haired Man in a neutral tone.

"No," admitted Harry and lowered his eyes. "I shouldn't have done it."

"Would you do it again in similar circumstances?" Grey-Haired Man questioned.

"I hope to never find myself in that situation again," Harry answered. "If it happened… I don't know. I hope I wouldn't."

"Thank you very much," said Grey-Haired Man.

It took Harry several seconds to realise that the interview was over. Without a word, he stood up and left the room. He had rarely felt so destabilised – it was as if he had been grabbed and shaken in all directions to find his faults. He was quite scared to have lost all his chances.

* * *

Back at the Burrow, Harry tried to look pleased, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering how he would explain to them why he hadn't been chosen. Luckily, the Weasleys didn't really ask questions about his interview, convinced that it was just a formality for him to get the job. Nevertheless, when Harry left to go to bed, Ron followed him into his room.

"Was it that bad?" he wondered.

"A catastrophe," Harry admitted, relieved to finally have someone to talk to. "They showed me my whole criminal record and didn't really appreciate the _Crucio_."

"What Crucio?" asked Ron.

Harry realised that he had never told anyone about this episode and started to narrate it to Ron.

"You did the right thing," he shouted when Harry was done. "This asshole deserved it!"

"Yeah, but Unforgivables are… unforgivable," Harry sighed.

"Not everything is lost," Ron encouraged him. "If they're having so much trouble to recruit people, they won't refuse the help of the Boy Who Lived just because he got mad at a Death Eater."

"Yeah, but it's better to avoid this kind of spells anyways," Harry tempered uncomfortably, thinking that Ron might be speaking well, but hadn't ever used an unforgivable curse for all that.

"I'm sure they'll keep you," Ron assured. "All wizards _want _you to become an Auror, Harry."

"But if I'm not a good Auror, it's better if I do something else, don't you think?"

"You're talking nonsense. No other job could fit you that well! You've been squashing Dark Wizards to porridge ever since you were one year old."

"Ron, you know it was my mum who…"

"That's my point. For a guy who can't do anything, you've done a lot, right?"

Harry smiled. What would he be without Ron? Then he suddenly remembered what he had heard in the same afternoon:

"Ron," he started. "You… err, don't you regret to have said no to their offer?"

Ron's face went bright red.

"How do you know?" he asked, embarrassed.

"They told me."

He let a moment of silence pass and shrugged:

"I don't regret it, no. I'm happy with what I'm doing."

"Do you really like it or are you doing it for George?" Harry worried.

"Both, I think," Ron answered. "I like selling joke items and giving people ideas of how to use them. And it helps me to think that Fred would be happy to know I'm not leaving George alone."

Harry looked at his friend. Once again, he felt powerless.

"Don't look at me like that," Ron told him. "Everything's good, I'm good, you're going to become an Auror and we'll live happily 'til the end of our days."

"Mhmh," Harry answered, not especially convinced.

"I've got a goal for the year," Ron suddenly stated.

"What?"

"I want to go live somewhere else than here. Maybe I can find a house on Diagon Alley."

"Is there a special reason?" Harry wondered, not daring to ask whether or not he would be living there with Hermione.

"Yeah, apparently I need to show that I can look after myself," said Ron in a falsetto voice, showing that his sister's accusations were still fresh in his memory.

"Why don't you move in with me?" Harry suddenly thought. "I was planning on moving into Grimmaurd Place."

"That would be amazing!" Ron cried enthusiastically. "When are you moving?"

"Next month," Harry decided spontaneously. "We just need to make the house habitable. But, err…" (Harry had suddenly remembered the reason of his moving.) "I hope you don't mind that Ginny comes by every once in a while?" he formulated with delicacy.

"As long as you let Hermione come by regularly," Ron answered with a wink.

The two friends exchanged a knowing smile.

"Have you made any progress in cooking?" Harry asked while trying to look stern.

"Err… I could do some cleaning every once in a while," Ron indicated miserably. "Thanks to my mom, I have some practice in that. What?" he asked when Harry broke into laughter.

"Did you really think I would move in without Kreacher?" Harry teased him.

"I've always loved this elf," Ron stated without any respect for the actual truth.

* * *

When Molly heard about their project, she first tried to discourage them. But when she realised that they wouldn't let their minds be changed and that even her husband supported the two young men, she decided to verify herself the comfort and wholesomeness of her son's and adoptive son's new home.

"I'll go there tomorrow to make a list of everything that needs to be done before you can move in," she indicated.

"Kreacher can come clean it up," Harry tried.

"We all know in what state he left that house. We can't trust him," she replied in a cold tone.

The boys looked at each other, alarmed. They had both thought of exactly the same thing – hopefully she wouldn't come and visit them regularly to make sure the house was clean and tidy!

"I'm starting to understand why Bill and Charlie left so far," Ron commented when they shared their fear a while later.

"Did she ever try to visit George?" Harry questioned.

"Yeah, at the beginning, when he moved there with Fred. But since there were traps everywhere, she gave up quickly enough. The twins affirmed that they were just products in the testing stage, but I suppose that they actually were anti-mum weapons."

"We'll have to invent our own," Harry sighed. He really didn't want his adoptive mum to just walk into the house while Ginny was visiting him.

"On that matter, I suppose we'll have to deactivate the protections that Mad-Eye installed to scare Snape. And we'll have to make a plan for Mrs Black's portrait," Ron remarked. "I can't imagine justifying myself every time I come home, I mean to your place."

"Our place," Harry stated. "Well, I guess we'll ask Hermione, as usual?"

On the next day, Harry's birthday was celebrated. Ginny couldn't come, but she had sent a letter and present per owl. After having feasted on a huge cake, Harry and Ron explained their problem to Hermione:

"Theoretically, no spell can cancel a permanent sticking charm," the young girl started. "That's where its name comes from," she learnedly added, leading Harry to clench his teeth.

"Are you sure?" Ron insisted.

"If even professor Dumbledore didn't manage to detach this painting and if the Blacks couldn't modify the decorations in Sirius' room, there's no chance that I do any better," Hermione answered.

"In that case, I'm wondering if I couldn't just buy myself another house," Harry groaned.

"Why?"

"There's no way anyone is going to get me to share a house with Sirius' mother."

"But I never said there wasn't a solution to get rid of her," Hermione opposed.

"Yes, you did!" both boys affirmed.

"I said that no magic could do it," she pointed out. "But there's a quite simple manner to not be bothered by the painting. Just build a wall in front of it. If it's in the total dark and quiet, the magic on the painting will go to sleep and gradually weaken as time passes. A coating and several good layers of paint will permit to hide the degrading images in your godfather's room, Harry, and you'll be able to redecorate."

The pin-ups didn't bother Harry, but he didn't point it out, too happy of finally having a solution to get rid of Mrs Black's portrait.

"And for the protection that Moody installed?"

"The counter-curse should be easy enough for a future Auror. I'm sure I have the spell in one of my books. I'll bring it to you next time."

The mention of Aurors stung Harry, as he was still waiting for the results of his job interview. But before he could say anything, Hermione continued:

"Did you get a letter from Ginny? How's it going for her?"

"Quite well," Harry answered, glad about the change of topic. "She'll be back in a week."

"I have a feeling that the Harpies are looking good in the championship," Ron commented. "They've played quite impressive selections last month."

* * *

Harry forgot all about his career-related worries when Ginny came back on Friday evening. She was delighted of her first contacts with her club. She was living the championship from the players' wings, assisted them for practice sessions and had even started her own fitness training program.

"The atmosphere is amazing," she assured. "A bit like a girl's dorm, just more fun."

Ron and Harry exchanged a puzzled look.

"And what's a girl's dorm like? Like a boy's dorm, except that there are bras lying around on the floor instead of dirty socks?" Ron asked.

"Exactly, and everyone talks about guys instead of girls," Ginny confirmed.

"Ron! Ginny!" Molly protested.

Harry smiled, but he couldn't stop himself from being slightly uncomfortable with the idea that he was being talked about in the same way that girls were talked about in his dorm in Gryffindor tower.

Harry had made it one of his principles to never find himself in the same bed as Ginny when the other members of the family were in the house. He had only broken this rule once – on the evening before the young girl had left. When the latter tiptoed into his room again that night, he decided that even the Boy Who Lived could sometimes forget his principles.

"Normally, I'll be living in my own house the next time you'll come back," he indicated to Ginny later, when they were preparing to sleep.

"About that, I don't know whether I understood Mum wrong. I hope that she was wrong when she told me that you asked Ron to come and live with you?"

"Does it bother you?"

"Of course! I thought we'd be able to see each other in peace and now I find out that my brother will always be there to play protector."

"He won't play anything! Or at least he better not if he wants Hermione to come visit."

"Harry, that's not the point. We're talking of my brother, here. He never accepted that I date anyone."

"I think he got over that. He supported you when you announced your contract with the Harpies," he reminded.

"Yeah… But he better not be in the way or make any inappropriate remarks, do we agree?"

"Don't worry."

"We'll see. Oh, by the way, when are you getting your answer from the Aurors? You didn't even tell me how it went!"

"…"

"Why? What happened?"

Harry made her a summary of his interview and narrated the scene with Amycus Carrow.

"Why did you tell them about it?" was Ginny's reaction.

"Because they asked me."

"You didn't have to tell them!"

"So you would've lied to them?"

"If I thought that it would stop me from being taken, of course I would."

Harry remained silent. Ginny drove the nail in:

"Don't worry. I'm sure they'll hire you anyways. Except if they find you too naïve. Move up a bit," she added with a yawn. "You're taking all the space!"

"Hey, I'm already halfway out!"

"Don't forget to plan a big bed in Grimmaurd Place," she advised.

On Sunday, the whole Weasley family as well as Harry and Hermione reunited at the Burrow for lunch. While they were drinking coffee in the lounge after the meal, Hermione asked Ron and Harry how far they were in their project of moving in.

"I think we'll be able to settle down in Grimmaurd Place in about two weeks," Harry announced.

"That would surprise me," Molly replied. "There's still a lot to do and Kreacher isn't very efficient."

"Why don't you employ some free elves to give him a hand in his work?" Hermione suggested.

"Free elves? Are there some already?" Harry wondered.

"There have always been some," Hermione explained. "Regularly, unhappy masters fire them in a fit of anger. Previously, the elves either let themselves die of despair, or they went to Hogwarts where professor Dumbledore employed them. The goal of the placement office is to help them take themselves in hand so that freedom doesn't scare them anymore."

"Are there that many masters that fired elves recently?" Ginny asked.

"No, it doesn't happen that often. But all the Death Eater families have been deprived of their right to keep elves and we collected about fifty thanks to that. Just come to my office on Monday morning, Harry, and we'll find you some workers. Oh, by the way, I really need to change S.P.E.W.'s name. I don't know how I managed to imagine such a horrible name. I had no sense of communication, back then!"

"I hope you remember that Ron and I managed not to laugh," Harry remarked. "If that's not true friendship!"

"Would your friendship extend into helping me find a better name?" she hoped.

"Of course," Ron hastily answered. "Charity for the Liberation of Elves because they're Amazing and Needed. C.L.E.A.N!"

"Ron!"

"Nobly Improving Conditions for Elves. Isn't that N.I.C.E?"

"George!"

"Save our Awe-inspiring and Unique Companions the Elves. It's simple enough and doesn't lack any S.A.U.C.E!" Bill added, playing along.

"Bill!" Hermione wailed.

"Protect Elves because they're Seriously Thrilling," Ron tried again.

"No, I won't replace S.P.E.W. with P.E.S.T," Hermione indicated firmly in the middle of laughs.

"No Elvish Vexation, Excruciation or Rancour," Ginny imagined.

"One should never say N.E.V.E.R.," Arthur opposed with gleaming eyes.

"Directory for the Improvement and Sensitisation of our Great and Unique Sidekicks Today. D.I.S.G.U.S.T.," Charlie suggested.

"I hate you so much," Hermione assured without being able to stop herself from laughing as well.

"Elves that are Legally Free," Arthur advanced. "It's simply E.L.F.!"

"Not bad…" started Hermione.

"Dobbie's Allies," Harry interrupted her with a firm voice that immediately brought everyone to shut up.

"Oh, yes, the D.A.," Ginny immediately approved. "I always brought us luck."

Hermione turned to Harry, nodded and announced with determination:

"I want everyone to know how Dobby saved the wizarding world."

"He deserves it," Harry recognised. "You can count on me as a witness."

* * *

Hermione had written House Elf presentation sheets and they chose together those that would be the best for the heavy building work to be done in Grimmaurd Place. The new workers arrived the next morning and Harry placed them under Kreacher's responsibility. He wondered whether it was a good idea when he saw the old elf welcome them with haughtiness and give them orders dryly. He had to take him aside and summon him to treat them with more kindness.

"Free elves are lazy and wicked," Kreacher replied. "They have no loyalty towards their masters and don't work properly."

Harry thought to himself that Hermione still had a lot of work in front of her.

"It's not their fault if they've been freed," he pleaded. "But if they don't want to, they won't come back tomorrow, so please avoid being brutal towards them."

"Master Harry asked for a nice house, so Kreacher must make the lazy elves work."

Harry gave up and cowardly abandoned his employees to their fate.

Soon, all the rooms in the house were thoroughly cleaned, the partitions were repainted and a wall was raised in front of the undesired portrait, who didn't miss a chance to tell them what she thought of that. The three elves worked as fast as they could on that day, and Kreacher, whom Harry had preventively sent to do shopping, didn't have anything to complain about.

Three years before, most of the dangerous objects had been eliminated, and Harry completed the renovation by getting rid of the ugliest furniture. Kreacher moved into a big cupboard into the boiling room – he had refused of sleeping in his own room – and was delighted when Harry offered him to take a big wardrobe having belonged to Regulus.

Harry settled into the master bedroom – or more exactly a suite with boudoir and bathroom. Ron chose Sirius' room – he wouldn't have minded keeping the old decoration, but admitted that it wouldn't be great when Hermione came over. Regulus' bedroom became the guest bedroom, with a child bed destined for Teddy. The living room was transformed into a pleasant environment with a Gryffindor-y style: huge, comfortable red and gold armchairs.

Molly put herself in charge of the fitting out of the kitchen. Surprisingly, her relation to Kreacher had clearly improved. After having tried a meal prepared by the elf, she had admitted that he was doing quite well in the matter. She had asked him for the recipe and, in the conversation, they had discovered themselves a common passion for _Witch Weekly_'s cooking section. Now having a permanent conversation topic, they started to gradually appreciate each other.


	10. Begin of a Career

**X – Begin of a Career**

_12th of August– 19th of September 1999_

* * *

**Chronology**

2nd of May 1998 : Battle of Hogwart

* * *

In the second week of August, only fifteen days after his job interview, Harry received a letter from the Ministry. Quite busy with his moving project, he had almost forgotten that he was waiting for an answer from the Auror office. The arrival of the letter left him stunned with anxiousness. A hand passed in his field of view and detached it from the messenger's leg. He heard the crumpling of parchment before receiving a clap on the back.

"Bloody hell!" he heard Ron's voice say. "You managed to scare me. Of course they took you! You're starting on Monday the sixth of September."

Relieved, Harry let himself fall onto a chair.

"Don't you ever anguish me like that again," Ron grumbled. "You were worse than Hermione on this one! I lost two whole kilos from worry this week!"

He left to trumpet the good news to his parents. Arthur and Molly welcomed the information with joy, but without a huge surprise, never having doubted of Harry's success. On his side, Harry hastily wrote a letter to Ginny and went to visit his godson. When he told the child he was becoming an Auror, "like Teddy's mom", Andromeda, still as reserved as always, turned away to hide her emotion.

When Ginny came back home after another fifteen days, Harry and Ron had only just moved into the renovated house. Ron had invited Hermione for dinner and the four of them met up to spend their Friday evening together. In a natural manner, when Hermione expressed her desire to go to bed, she said goodnight to Harry and Ginny and walked towards the stairs, followed closely by Ron. The two others looked at each other, smiling, and also left for the upper floor. They held hands, impatient of enjoying the intimacy of Harry's room.

The next morning, it was more than ten o'clock when the two couples met up again for breakfast. They spent the day together, reading or chatting in the living room. Harry appreciated this peacefulness as well as the permanent contact he had with his girlfriend. Ron didn't seem to mind about it, probably too busy stealing kisses from Hermione. They went for lunch at the Burrow on Sunday, and Ginny left to Holyhead from there in the evening.

Harry wondered about how easily Ginny's almost-total installation in his house had been accepted. Indeed, after having supervised the house's renovation, Molly seemed – against all expectations – accept the departure of her last children well. She stuck with underlining that their presence at the family table every Sunday for lunch was unavoidable.

Nevertheless, on one afternoon, when Ron and Harry – who had been helping out at the shop – came home from a long day of work, the young men learnt from Kreacher that Molly had entered their sanctuary. Harry hoped she hadn't checked his room, because Ginny's intimate possessions were lying around there, mixed with his. Ron had the same thought:

"She didn't go to the upper floor, I hope!"

"Kreacher is a competent House Elf!" protested their servant with indignation. "No one enters the young Masters' apartments during their absence. But Kreacher judged acceptable to let Mrs Molly enter the kitchen. She came to bring Pumpkin and Almond cake."

"Pumpkin and Almond cake is my fatal flaw," Ron said, forgetting everything his mother could've discovered while his eyes set off to look for the motherly dish.

"The young Sir mustn't eat it now," the elf warned. "Kreacher made an excellent stew for his Masters."

"Don't worry!" Ron reassured him, licking his lips. "Serve your stew, it'll be gone in a second."

* * *

On the first Monday of September, Harry went to the Ministry's atrium. Grey-Haired Man was waiting for him with three young wizards and witches fresh from Hogwarts: Vicky Frobisher – who had been in Harry and Ginny's class – and two Hufflepuffs, Kevin Whitby and Eleanor Branstone. Grey-Haired Man held out his hand to Harry and introduced himself:

"Dave Faucett, Head of the Auror Office."

"Hello, Commander."

"We're only waiting for one more person," Faucett indicated.

Harry greeted his old classmates with a nod and looked at the centre of the atrium. During his previous visits, he had already noticed that the horrible statue showing wizards sitting on a pile of Muggles had disappeared. The area was still empty and Harry was satisfied that they hadn't put back the Fountain of Magical Brethren. He hoped to one day see a monument presenting Wizards, Muggles and Magical Creatures on an equal foot, but he knew that it wouldn't happen anytime soon.

When the last aspiring Auror arrived, Harry recognised Owen Harper, the Slytherin Seeker. The two boys exchanged a crisped smile, their rivalry at Quidditch having opposed them for the whole last year. Faucett led them to the Welcome Desk where they were checked in so that they wouldn't have to leave their wands back. They then took the lift to the second floor.

They crossed the huge Auror Office, watched by their new colleagues. Harry regretted his large wizarding hat, which protected him with more or less success from the curiosity that his public outings usually created. He hoped that the surprise effect would soon fade away and that those who were now his colleagues would soon realise that there was nothing extraordinary about him.

The new recruits were led into what looked like it might be Faucett's office. The latter sat down behind his work table and turned towards them:

"Welcome to the Auror Office. Today, you will be starting your training which will last for three years. As aspiring Aurors, you will not only have to follow a confirmed Auror, but you will also have to pass theoretical tests every year to help us evaluate your progress and learning. The missions for which you will be formed are: observation to recognise acts of Dark Magic and blood crimes, investigation to identify the authors of those crimes, tracking and arresting of known criminals, protections of personalities in the wizarding world. Any questions?"

"Will we have to follow lessons?" Vicky Frobisher asked.

"It's your partner who will evaluate you and teach you what you need to learn. You will nevertheless be united sometimes to train together."

Someone knocked on the door and five people entered.

"Oh, here are your instructors!"

None of them were completely unknown to Harry as they had, just like him, participated in the battle of Hogwarts and he had therefore seen them at one or two events during the last year. One of them was Black-Haired Guy who had been part of the jury during the interview he had passed a month ago. Faucett introduced him first:

"This is Stanislas Pritchard. As Vice-Head of this Office, he is my left arm. He will be looking after Potter."

Without waiting, Pritchard held out his hand to Harry. The latter shook it while wondering whether they would get along well. He had seemed quite dry, if not aggressive during the job interview. Faucett then named the four other Aurors and entrusted them their apprentice.

On his first day, Harry didn't leave the HQ. He was shown his new office and how to obtain new stationery if he ever needed some. He was initiated to the file sorting system and filled in a few administrative papers. Later, he went for lunch on Diagon Alley with his instructor:

"Enjoy this while you can," Pritchard warned him. "Most of the time, it'll be a sandwich on the corner of a table."

They had used the Floo Network to get to the Leaky Cauldron and had walked up the wizarding road to find a suitable restaurant. When they finally sat down, Pritchard remarked:

"I suppose it's always like that."

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

"The people turning around when you walk by."

"More or less, yeah," he answered in a contrite voice.

Harry was used to those manifestations. Wherever he went without disguise, people followed him with their eyes, pointed at him and whispered "It's Harry Potter!" to their children. When they managed to meet his gaze, wizards greeted him with a nod and some witches even went so far as to curtsy in front of him. He was let in front of queues and always had to insist on paying for his purchases in shops. In the last months, he had opted for mail-order selling under the name of Ron. When he couldn't do otherwise, he answered the greetings with a small nod and opposed a strictly negative answer to diverse solicitations – especially autograph requests.

"We'll have to fix that," Stanislas Pritchard declared.

"Is there a way?" Harry asked with hope.

"Of course! We Aurors aren't that many. So of course, people that regularly try to get around the law know us well. So we have our little tricks. This afternoon, I'll give you your first lesson in Concealment and Disguise."

Harry felt a small bang in his heart when he heard this wording. Tonks had mentioned it to him during their first encounter.

Back at the Ministry, Pritchard made Harry sit down at his desk and gave him a mirror. The young man looked at it with questioning eyes.

"It's a thing that girls use to prettify themselves," his instructor explained as if his apprentice didn't know what it was.

Harry cast him a mistrustful look.

"You never joke? That's a pity. Well, do you know Metamorphmagic?"

"Yes," Harry replied, thinking to himself that he had held an expert on the matter on his lap the last evening.

"For some very rare wizards, it's a natural gift, but that doesn't mean that others can't do it. For the others, we use our wands and we model ourselves a new face, touch by touch."

Harry remembered that Hermione had metamorphosed Ron in that way on the day they had broken into Gringotts.

"There are several spells, depending on what you want to do," he remembered.

"Exactly," Pritchard approved. "Go, press your wand softly against your right cheek and say _Abscessus_."

Harry fixed the mirror and obeyed. His cheek suddenly doubled its volume, luckily without any other sensation than a slight prickling.

"You were a little too harsh. Try again on the other side with a softer tapping."

After ten minutes, Harry was effectively unrecognisable, but not especially discreet for all that. It was rare that people resisted to the pleasure of staring at pumpkins on feet.

"How long does the effect stay?" asked Harry, not managing to remember what Hermione had said about that.

"Ten hours at the most."

"What? But I can't stay like that the whole day!"

"At least, you'll be motivated to learn fast."

"Oh no," Harry wailed.

He didn't dare to think about what Ron would say. Even a ten-year old friendship wouldn't stop him from dying of laughter. Maybe he would even use it as a model for a new joke item. He could already see Ron and George selling _Pumpkin Face _pills for Halloween.

"Harry, is that you?" he heard Angelina Johnson's voice.

"Probably, unless Harry lent his glasses to a cane toad," Seamus commented.

"I'm sure it was the same for you guys," Harry grumbled.

"It's his voice, that's for sure," Alicia noted.

"You can change that as well," Pritchard pointed out. "There again, you need to be precise if you don't want to keep a soprano tone for a week."

Harry had been expecting a difficult training, but this was way over all his expectations!

It was already close to the end of the day and his instructor permitted him to go home. Harry mentally prepared himself to undergo the dumbfounded stares of officials on the way to the departing chimneys. He stood up with a sigh and walked towards the door under the mocking looks of his colleagues. He was about to open it when Pritchard called out:

"Have you never heard of _Finite Incantatem_?"

"Of course I have!" the Boy Who Lived took offence.

"What are you waiting for, then?" he asked while the other Aurors broke into laughter.

* * *

In a first time, Harry had been quite mortified of the trick that had been played on him. He had wondered whether his instructor had a bone to pick with him, but in the following days, he realised that he was not the only one to find himself in a ridiculous situation. The other young aspirants were all victims of similar jokes. Vicky Frobisher spent hours searching the entire office, trying to find an erasing quill that only existed in her instructor's imagination. Kevin Whitby was sent to stand guard in front of Gringotts for fifteen whole minutes before being sent an owl to remind him that goblins were known for protecting themselves.

Harry admitted that it wasn't especially mean, just a way to teach them to not always stay passive to the instructions they were given. They had to learn to compare what they were taught with what they already knew, spot any incoherencies and point them out. Later, Pritchard explained to him that this was a part of their Investigation training.

On the second day, Harry concentrated on polishing his Metamorphmagic spells. At lunchtime, he managed to fashion himself a human-looking face. Very ugly, but human.

"Really not bad," his partner approved with a nod. "Now, just add a little _Dentesaugmento_ and _Nasdiminuando_ to equalise the whole thing."

Harry learnt to change the shape of his face, to make his teeth grow, to lengthen or shorten his nose, then to modify the colour of his hair. He always still had his scar, but with a good fringe, it didn't stand out. He also used a little transfiguration on his glasses to make them less recognisable and sometimes even managed to change the pitch of his voice.

On the third day, his instructor gave him a bunch of portraits of criminals that were lying around and told him to use them as inspiration to design himself a completely new visage. After hours of work, Harry shaped a figure that was neutral enough to not attract attention: dirty blond hair with a fringe, a nose a little rounder than originally, rounder eyes, a bulgier forehead. He didn't look particularly handsome, but Pritchard seemed satisfied.

"Adopted! Will you remember it?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Perfect. Now, try to get it exactly the same again, but without a mirror. _Finite Incantatem_."

On the fourth day, he more or less managed to disguise himself without looking into the mirror. Pritchard gave him instructions to continue practicing every day, until he managed to transform himself in no more than a few seconds. The effects of the spells only lasted more or less two hours; he therefore had to be able to renew them discreetly and quickly.

"Won't people find it weird that I disappear every two hours?" Harry asked.

"If you drink enough Butterbeer, you'll have an alibi," Pritchard answered with a wink.

* * *

At the end of the first week, Eleanor Branstone suggested to the aspiring Aurors to go to the pub to celebrate their new functions.

"Good idea," Owen Harper approved. "Just let me make a short chimney call to tell my parents quickly."

Harry accepted as well, as Ginny wasn't coming home on that weekend. He sent a message to Kreacher and followed the others to a nice bar on Diagon Alley. They started by exchanging their impressions of the first week. While listening to his new colleagues with half an ear, Harry thought that he had been feeling very well these last days and that he had really appreciated the atmosphere in the Auror office. A little introspection made him realise why that was the case: when he was there, he wasn't treated as some kind of circus attraction or as a hero, but as what he really was: an aspiring Auror in first year.

His instructor evaluated him strictly and seriously, but without hate and taught him everything he didn't know. The Aurors sometimes cast him curious glances, but no one had asked for an autograph or had mentioned what made him famous. Harry wondered whether they had received instructions on that matter. As for the other aspiring Aurors in first and second year, he had known most of them at Hogwarts – be it in class, in his Quidditch team or during the DA sessions – and their relations were almost normal. He had finally found his place.

He joined the conversation naturally and evoked the formation they were busy following. They laughed of the small pranks of which they had been victims, teasing each other mutually, and compared the training they had received.

* * *

Harry used his Saturday morning to sleep. In the middle of the afternoon, Teddy and Andromeda came to visit him. The child appreciated the room that had been created especially for him and the toys that had been stowed there. Finally, Harry offered to keep him for the night; Andromeda could take him back on the next morning at the Weasleys. After having eaten supper with Teddy, Harry put him to bed at eight o'clock while singing the Gryffindor version of _Weasley is our King_. He was starting to become an expert.

The next week, Pritchard took him to keep an eye on a shop that was suspected of running unorthodox traffics. They place themselves a few metres away and pretended to be acquaintances in the middle of a conversation, while keeping an eye on who entered and left the building.

"Well," started Pritchard, "in your point of view, what do Aurors do?"

"They chase Dark Wizards?"

"Exactly. Death Eaters that are still free, for example."

"Excuse me?" Harry panicked.

"You didn't know? Don't worry, they're mostly only small fishes compared to those we captured at Hogwarts."

Harry stared at him, stunned. How did he never think of that? The answer came to him quickly: because Hermione had never mentioned it. But for the last year, he had been counting on her to read the newspapers and summarise him what was happening in the wizarding world. He had never even heard of free Death Eaters and had assumed they were all imprisoned. But why had she never mentioned this in front of him?

"Are they on the run?" he asked.

"Four or five left the country. We therefore have to stay watchful and recognise them if they ever come back. You saw the board with wanted criminals on the wall of the HG, didn't you?"

Yes, Harry had seen it, and his first thought had been that his portrait had probably been hanging there during Voldemort's reign.

"There's written _Particularly Dangerous Individuals_," he underlined soberly.

"That means Death Eater. But we use the official term, not the pompous name they gave themselves.

"And are there still some in England?"

"A few, but luckily they aren't the most dangerous. In any case, they're staying discreet and there isn't a high chance that they try anything else without anyone leading them."

"Aren't we scared that they attack people, like Crouch Jr. and Bellatrix Lestrange attacked the Longbottoms?" Harry worried.

"We permitted the photo of You-Know-Who's corps to be on the front page of every newspaper to avoid exactly that. And now that a year has passed, we think there's no chance that it'll still happen."

Harry nodded. He hadn't read the papers on the day after the Battle of Hogwarts: he had slept for most of the day and had gone to meet Teddy.

"There's not only official Death Eaters," Pritchard continued. "We also regularly keep an eye on those who managed to be declared innocent, or who weren't even brought before trial, but who we still suspect of having acted."

"Like the Malfoys," Harry suggested.

"For example. If you have any new elements about them, don't hesitate to share them."

Harry had some, but he wasn't sure he wanted to hand them in. The less he thought about them, the better he was doing.

"With that said, since it's been a year and we have little chances of catching them," Pritchard continued, "they aren't our priority anymore. We have more urgent stuff to do."

"Blood crimes," Harry recited, remembering his Commander's welcome speech.

"Exactly. Brutality isn't only used by Death Eaters. We therefore intervene in the sad disappearance of rich uncles and for the dozen of small murders that happen every year – half of them are for cash, the other half for a girl. The war didn't suspend any private crimes, rather on the contrary. And since we completely abandoned those investigations during the Year of Darkness, we've had quite a bunch of homicides and abuses committed without any consequences. Now, we're trying to fix up the mess. We also take care of all mysterious deaths and big traffics, like today. There's a lot to do as an Auror."

"Why did you abandon investigations during the war?" Harry wondered.

"We had strict orders to capture and arrest everyone who didn't agree with You-Know-Who's regime and it took us all our time, that's it."

Harry looked at him, revolted by what he was discovering.

"And it's not the worst," Pritchard added. "Since it was often impossible to capture some of the people they wanted, like you, we were forced to work together with the Snatchers."

"With the Snatchers!?" Harry cried, more and more shocked.

"Most of them were hoodlums that we knew well. But we had so much need for their help to not attract the Death Eaters' wrath on us that we made some deals. When one of those guys brought us an opponent, we forgot his criminal record."

"But how could you do that?" Harry questioned, appalled.

"We didn't really have a choice. When our commander gave us explicit orders, either we obeyed, or we died. Summers and Pilgrim spent three months hiding in the countryside for having refused to obey."

Harry didn't dare ask Pritchard what he had thought of all that. But his instructor smiled, as if he knew perfectly what questions his aspirant had:

"There were more discreet ways to get around the official orders. I don't want to criticise my colleagues, but once they became fugitives, they didn't help anyone anymore. It was a lot more effective to pretend we agreed and obeyed, and then to use the information we got given to warn the people we were supposed to arrest. If you look at the reports from that year, you'll see that the number of failed arrests in that year is impressive. You have to know how to be a bit of a Slytherin sometimes."

Harry decided not to comment the last sentence. He preferred to ask:

"And your commander, didn't he cover you?"

"No, and the rebelling Aurors that were caught won a trip to Azkaban. It was such a waste. Robards was a good Auror before his sanity was ruined with a whole bunch of _Imperios_."

"What did he become?"

"He's at St Mungo's. When you really resist, you risk unfixable damage. His wife told me that it took several hours for the three Death Eaters to finally get him under their control. Then, they kept him as a puppet for several months. He had no chance of coming out unscathed."

"Do you mean the Imperius Curse makes people crazy?"

"When their spirit is strong enough, yes. When you give in easily – be it because you don't have enough will or because you're too scared to resist – you can come out fine. But if you stand strong, your spirit breaks rather than bowing to the intruding will. Why do you think it's an Unforgivable? There are other ways to force people to do what you want: blackmail, menace, corruption. It's punishable, of course, but not that much, because it isn't that dangerous."

Harry shuddered. He thought of Voldemort's attempt to make him kneel down. Would he have gone crazy if his enemy had taken the time to push him down? Then he remembered his own use of the spell. What would he have done if the Goblin that he had chosen as target had resisted? Would he have gone as far as to break his soul? Pritchard looked at him searchingly, as if he knew exactly what Harry was thinking. Harry decided that it was the moment or never to bring light on this point:

"Why did you accept me even though you knew that I also…"

Harry was so embarrassed that he didn't dare finish his sentence. Pritchard looked at him for a while before saying:

"I don't know if one can have a career as an Auror without one day breaking the rules. What counts, and that's what we tried to determine when questioning you, is whether you'd do it again in another kind of situation. But visibly, you aren't proud of it."

Harry nodded. It didn't stop him from sleeping at night, but it wasn't a nice memory for all that. Pritchard had half a smile before adding:

"Shacklebolt isn't the kind of person to give orders out of his attributions, definitely not! It's not for nothing that we call him the 'Mr Clean-Up' at the Ministry. He's our cleaning man for corruption and law bypassers! But we've worked with him for years, so he didn't need to make us a drawing for us to know at what point he wanted you to join the Aurors. That was an extra point for you. And if you think we would permit ourselves not to take the boy who won over You-Know-Who!"

Harry almost repeated that he hadn't done a lot since it was his mother's charm that had made all the difference, but he remembered his long months of looking after Horcruxes, getting close to death so often only for Voldemort to be killed one day. No, he couldn't just say he hadn't done anything. Harry didn't like to be congratulated, but didn't see the point of lowering himself in front of his partner.

"I still have a lot to learn," he rather said.

"At least, you're conscious of it. But there's something you already know: what the duty of a real Auror is. Because you shouldn't believe that all my colleagues needed an Imperius Curse to follow the orders of the Minister. Some of us didn't even need to be prayed to pull off that number."

"Why didn't they choose a commander that was convinced by that ideology, then?" Harry wondered.

"It was a message to the others: what could happen if we resisted a bit too much."

Harry swallowed, disgusted.

"Are those who agreed with Voldemort's regime still in place?" he asked.

"Mr Clean-Up looked after that. But I think there must still be one or two that kind of regret those times, but managed to keep their mouth shut."

"Who?" Harry asked.

Pritchard shrugged:

"I don't see how it would help you to know it. In any case, I don't have proof, just suspicions. To come back to everything we left aside for a year," he continued, leaving Harry to his hunger, "we had to give up on some stuff, since the clues that could've helped us to investigate all disappeared. But to compensate, we're trying to be even more effective this year, just so that our dear fellow citizens don't get too used to doing whatever they want."

* * *

On the next Friday evening, Ginny and Hermione joined Harry and Ron at Grimmaurd Place. It was only on the next morning that the young Auror descended from cloud nine – which had been caused by the return of his girlfriend – and told the others what he had learnt about Death Eaters on the loose. Ginny and Ron seemed horrified, but Hermione nodded without surprise.

"You knew about it," Harry blamed her. "Why didn't you tell us about it?"

"What difference would it make? We played our role, and it isn't our problem anymore, except for you, as a two-week old Auror. And they aren't the most dangerous or those that are ready to take initiatives that managed to run away. You didn't need to worry about that."

"But still…" Harry protested.

"It's not reassuring," Ron added. "Even just knowing Lucius Malfoy is free makes me sick!"

"Oh, him! I think the way his Master treated him served him as a lesson," Hermione commented. "And he's far from having the influence he used to have. He got away from Azkaban, but he still lost his good reputation as well as a lot of money that we took from him with fines."

Harry wondered since when Hermione said 'we' when talking about the Ministry. She probably wasn't limiting her interventions to the Department of Magical Creatures. He then narrated what he had learnt about the suspension of all criminal investigations during the Year of Darkness. Ron and Ginny were as shocked as him.

"It's unnecessary to hope they'll mention it in the papers!" Ron cried.

"It wouldn't necessarily be a good thing," Hermione opposed. "There's really no need to let all the outlaws know that the Aurors stopped looking for them. Plus, the department of Magical Law Enforcement has the exact same problem. They're sluicing all the trials from a year ago.

"I didn't know you changed Departments," Harry teased her.

"Susan Bones told me," Hermione replied.

"So you have informers everywhere?" Ginny wondered.

"Almost. Being the Boy Who Lived's best friend is a good visit card to get invited for lunch. People are so proud to be seen with me that I can ask all the questions I want to."

"People often ask me whether I'm the Weasley that was with Harry during the Year of Darkness," Ron confirmed. "When they ask me to know where we were and what we were doing, I answer that if I told them, they'd be visited by Obliviators in the following hours. That calms them down."

"And you, Ginny," Harry worried. "Are you also bothered with that?"

"When people ask me questions about you, I say that I don't see you anymore. Most people think we broke up. It's simpler for me that way."

When she saw his expression, she adopted a confused air and took his hand. It wasn't sufficient to totally comfort Harry. He knew that Ginny didn't like bragging about her relationship with him, and he understood that, but he still felt a little hurt that she considered him like a handicap to hide.

Probably to change the topic, Ginny informed them that on the following Sunday, the Harpies would play their second-last match of the tournament. They would play for second place the week after that, or maybe even first, depending on the results of Puddlemere United during their match on Saturday. She had enough tickets for the whole family and they promised her that they would come and support her team.

She then explained to her that her own training hadn't started yet – she would have to wait for the end of the season – but she was doing at least two hours of gymnastics every day without exception to get to the level of her teammates. Harry was supposed to be physically fit as well, and his instructor had indicated that all Aurors had to dedicate three hours per week to sports training – and six hours for aspiring Aurors.

"But we rarely have time to do it," Pritchard had warned him. "Commander Faucett doesn't look at it too closely, except for the newbies like you, since it's essential that you learn our techniques. So you, you do all your six hours, even if that forces you to work over-hours."

He had had his half-smile and Harry had understood that it was a joke. It had nevertheless taken him a few more days to understand that over-hours were nothing special for the Aurors, sports training or not.

* * *

The next morning, Harry went to fetch Teddy at the end of the afternoon and the child found his room happily. On Sunday at twelve o'clock, everyone transported themselves to the Weasleys where they joined up with Andromeda and the rest of the family – except for Charlie who had other projects. Ginny left again for Holyhead in the evening and Hermione went back to her parents. Ron and Harry went back to Grimmaurd Place.

Even though both of them would've preferred a more conventional couple life, their cohabitation was going well. After all, it was their ninth year of living together.


	11. First Investigation

**XI – First Investigation**

20th of September – 26th of October 1999

* * *

2nd of May 1998: Battle of Hogwarts

1st of September 1998 - 30th of June 1999: Harry is in Seventh Year

6th of September 1999: Harry becomes an aspiring Auror

* * *

The following week, the instructors started to show their interpellation and combat techniques to the new recruits. Harry realised that he had no problem following. It dawned on him that the specialised exercises that his Defence against the Dark Arts teacher had given him in the previous year at Hogwarts, while the others were practising easier spells, hadn't been chosen randomly.

Pritchard was very satisfied of his aspirant's level. Harry also learnt the basics of investigation, with which he was less familiar. He had to read the records of previous resolved cases to determine how the Aurors had proceeded to collect the clues that had led to arresting the culprits.

On Friday, Pritchard asked him whether he had plans for the weekend.

"Yes, I'm going to a Quidditch match on Sunday," Harry indicated.

"The Harpies' match?" Owen Harper, whose office was next to theirs, asked.

"Yup."

"Lucky you, you can get free places now!" the young aspiring Auror shouted.

"I don't know," Harry tempered. "I got free tickets for this one, that's all."

"You can get free tickets?" Pritchard asked, visibly interested.

"He knows one of the Harpies well," Harper revealed in a tone that didn't leave any mysteries about the type of relationship that Harry and the player had.

"Really?" Pritchard asked, surprised. "Gwenog Jones?"

Harry looked at him, horrified. The Harpies' captain was at least thirty years old.

"No, it's a new recruit who wasn't played in any official matches yet," he rectified.

"Actually," Harper continued, "there's a bunch of us here that were part of a team at Hogwarts. We could form a new one like some of the other departments did."

"Err, yeah. But… we're both Seekers…"

"I can be a Chaser," Harper objected while sweeping away the objection with his hand.

"The matches between the Ministry's teams always take place on Sunday," Pritchard signalled. "Seeing all our restraints, we'll have to plan doubles for all the posts."

"Do you also play?" Harry asked him.

"Only chess," he admitted. "But I like to bet."

* * *

On the last Sunday of September, the Weasley family and all their companions gathered after lunch to go to the Ilkley Moor Stadium together, where they were going to watch Ginny's Quidditch team play. A whole row in the tribunes had been reserved for them. All the other present Quidditch fans stared at Harry when he walked in, but he was used to it now.

Harry had never watched a high-level match since the World Cup and it was with joy that he remembered the excitation created by this kind of show. After having encouraged the Harpies loudly, clapped, trembled, shouted and finally jumped with joy when the feminine team had won, he thought that if becoming an Auror hadn't been that important to him, he would have liked to get the same opportunity as Ginny.

When she came to greet her family after the match, completely red with emotion and happiness to see her comrades qualifying for the League Cup Finals, Harry had to admit that she really had found her vocation.

* * *

While entering the Aurors' HQ on the following Monday, his surroundings almost felt familiar to him. He recognised most of the faces around him, even though he couldn't match a name to all of them, which was slightly embarrassing since everyone obviously knew his.

His instructor decided to start the week by making him study a series of photographs.

"Those are suspects that we haven't been able to arrest yet. We're suspecting them of regularly meddling with Dark Magic, but haven't ever managed to catch them. If you ever walk into one of them, be careful. I guess you've met worse than them before, but those also use Unforgivable Curses. Understood?"

"Understood! Constant vigilance!"

Pritchard stayed quiet for a few moments. Then, he finally asked:

"Did you know Moody well?"

"No," Harry admitted. "But he helped protect me between my fifteenth birthday and his death."

"Do you know… what happened to him?"

It was Harry's turn to make a pause. Judging on his partner's emotional expression, he decided that Pritchard deserved to be told the truth:

"Just before I turned seventeen, the Order of the Phoenix decided that I had to move away from my uncle's house. The protection squad that came to collect me came up with the idea of making six other people drink Polyjuice Potion with my hair in it so that if Voldemort surprised us, he wouldn't know which of us to follow. It wasn't my idea," Harry defended himself.

"It wasn't stupid," Pritchard commented.

"It was risky for those who took my appearance," Harry replied.

"Not riskier than for you," his instructor remarked.

Harry gave up and continued his story.

"Voldemort knew about our plan. He was waiting for us. He saw seven Harry Potters and thought that Moody would be protecting the real one, since he was the best Auror. He shot him down with an Avada."

After a moment of thought, Pritchard estimated:

"I think he preferred to die like that than to be stabbed in the back at night by a group of hooded individuals. At least, his death helped a cause."

Harry nodded.

"And you retrieved his eye?" Pritchard asked.

Harry indicated that yes, while wondering how everyone knew about his presence in the Ministry on that day. Had Umbridge ordered the Aurors to investigate this disappearance?

"I buried it in a forest so that no one with bad intentions could use it," he pointed out.

His partner didn't answer, but his half-smile expressed his approval.

Harry reported his attention on the photos he had to memorise when he was struck by a sudden idea:

"Why don't we put a Taboo on the Unforgivable Curses? Wouldn't it help us spot those who use them?"

"In your opinion, why aren't we doing it?" Pritchard answered immediately.

Harry cast him an irritated look. He knew that it was a pedagogic question, but he preferred to directly be given the answer. Because if he had to look for it himself, he would only ridicule himself by showing his ignorance.

"Dunno," he answered half-heartedly.

"What's the point of a Taboo?" his instructor patiently asked.

"Find people that pronounce a certain word."

"Yes. But it doesn't see the difference between a spell and a word simply used in a conversation. So we would regularly have false alarms."

"Do people often talk about Unforgivables?"

"In these times, I'd guess that yes. People narrate each other their experiences of the war. I can't imagine just breaking into all sorts of family reunions!"

Harry thought about the argument.

"But people talk about Imperius Curses, Cruciatus Curses and Killing Curses. Not about _Imperios_, _Crucios_ and _Avada Kedavras_."

"You just did."

"Of course, but only to illustrate my point!"

"And when Uncle Archibald tells everyone how he escaped a Snatcher that was shouting _Imperio_, guess who's going to arrive for nothing? Without mentioning all those who pretend to use this spell in their erotic games."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh come on, you have to get out a bit, my boy. It comes just after magical handcuffs in the ranking of all kinds of phantasms."

Harry opened his eyes wide. Ron's book didn't mention that kind of stuff!

"And there's not only that," Pritchard added, interrupting the images he had created in Harry's imagination. "The Taboo only permits us to localise people. If your target used protection spells, we can't find them any more than before."

"That's wrong," Harry shouted. "Our defences fell when I pronounced 'Voldemort'!"

"You were caught because of the Taboo?" Pritchard asked.

"Yes. The snatchers caught us all even though they shouldn't have been able to see or hear us."

"And you managed to escape them?" his instructor asked again.

"We managed to run away later thanks to a House Elf's help," Harry resumed since he didn't feel like narrating the whole story. "In any case, it pulls down protections."

"No, that wasn't the Taboo, but the jinx that was attached to it. And that one is Dark Magic – there's no way that we continue to use it. So in summary, we would mostly be alerted by the words being pronounced in a normal conversation. All Dark Wizards surely won't forget to use a Protection charm preventively to give themselves time to disapparate before we arrive."

Harry meditated these words and his thoughts took another path.

"But in the end, what differentiates Dark Magic from normal, acceptable spells?" he asked.

"Don't they teach you that at school?" Pritchard wondered.

"No, we're only taught the spells we're allowed to use to defend ourselves, and the teachers vaguely mention the others while pointing out that we're not allowed to use them."

"It's the intention that makes the difference," his instructor revealed. "There are spells that just have a dark nature, like the Unforgivables: wanting to kill, torture and control can't be tolerated. It would be helpful for us to arrest criminals with a simple _Imperio_. But risking to break his will and to put him completely at our mercy isn't moral. So we pull ourselves together and try to immobilise him without touching his spirit."

"But if we put them under the Imperius Curse to stop them from hurting others?" Harry argued.

"There's always another way to do it. A more benign spell, less dangerous. Sometimes, particular cases do need us to be more forceful. But we aren't writing the rules for exceptions. If we did, everyone would be spending their time whether or not they are an exception and to determine whether the rule applies to them. Or they could just decide that everything is an exception and wouldn't have any limits anymore. That's why the Ministry draws the line and decides for you which spells are acceptable. Arranging yourself so that the spells deemed 'acceptable' don't hurt others is already complicated enough. In a sense, you were given the correct definition at school. 'Dark' spells are forbidden spells."

"But what if the Ministry suddenly allowed all dark spells by declaring them white?"

"Last time it happened, you knew what to do, didn't you?"

The fact that so many others imagined that he had risked his life and called for rebellion to defend justice and moral always made Harry uncomfortable. In his point of view, he had just tried to defeat his parents' murderer and had only been the leader of the uprising only through the decision of his allies.

"But one could say that rebelling against the Ministry isn't moral," Harry opposed, making himself the devil's advocate.

"I never said that making choices was easy," his mentor replied. "But don't worry, for now you haven't made any extremely bad ones."

When he thought about all those he hadn't been able to save, Harry wasn't so sure about it. But he decided to go back to the initial discussion:

"And why is the spell that tears down the protections dark?" he asked.

"Because it is excessively powerful and that whoever is the subject of that curse has little chances to survive. If you survived your capture, it's because your barriers were extremely good."

Harry sighed and concentrated on his portraits again.

* * *

The League Cup ended with the Holyhead Harpies in second place. Despite their defeat in the finals, the whole Weasley clan agreed that it had been a very good match and that they had been lucky to be able to see it. Molly surprised everyone with her technical knowledge of Quidditch. She reviled the referee who hadn't seen a blatant fault committed by Puddlemere United's beater and had therewith disadvantaged the losers 'who had played way better'.

"How is it going to be when Ginny will really play with her team?" Ron whispered into Harry's ear. "The referees should better watch their behinds if the Harpies ever happen to lose."

"If you ask me, the Beaters that attack her will risk a lot more!" Harry answered.

"In the end, I don't know if it's wise to let Ginny play," Ron concluded.

The Harpies had a week to rest when Ginny next came to Grimmaurd Place. During the first few days, Harry and she weren't very social towards Ron, too busy with their reunion. When Harry pulled away from her presence to go to work, she rested or went to visit her other friends. A few days after her return, she asked whether she could invite her parents for dinner the next evening.

"You don't need to ask me for permission," Harry answered.

"It's your house," Ginny reminded him.

"It's our house. You can invite whoever you want to," Harry accepted while wondering what he had to do for her to consider this house as her home.

"That's true," Ron remarked. "We never thought of inviting them. It would be funny to inverse the roles!"

"Especially with Kreacher in Mom's role in the kitchen," Ginny underlined with realism.

"I'd be quite curious to see what you can cook," Ron teased her.

"I've still got time to learn," he sister snapped back. "At least I'm sure that if anyone asks me to marry them, it won't be just so that I look after their house."

Harry didn't intervene in that conversation. Despite the tenderness without limits that she had for him, he doubted that marriage would ever be a part of Ginny's plans.

* * *

The evening with the Weasley parents ended up quite instructive. Harry realised that he didn't really talk to them on Sunday lunches, as it was difficult to keep a serious conversation while a young child was begging for attention and a dozen other adults were chatting around. In Grimmaurd Place's kitchen, Molly was able to tell them all about her latest occupations without being interrupted at all times.

Her activities to help wizards and witches coming back after having escaped to the countryside were coming to an end. Unlike the first war which had decimated entire families, the actions of the ministry, of snatchers and of the Battle of Hogwarts had made a big number of widows and widowers.

The latter, who were therefore the only ones with an income, couldn't look after their children during the day. The Ministry had therefore started a program that looked after children and even offered primary school for those old enough to learn to read and count, inspired by Muggles. Molly was in charge of checking the needs and proposing emergency solutions in difficult cases.

"And for orphans?" Harry asked.

"All wizarding families being more or less related, we found a home for all of them," Mr Weasley comforted him.

Harry suddenly realised that without the prophecy, he could've grown up in a wizarding family after his parents' death instead of with his aunt and uncle. But oh well, Dumbledore had done what he thought best for him!

"And who will be the professors in this new school?" Ginny asked her mother.

"They're simply called 'teachers'," her mother corrected her. "Mrs Brocklehurst, who is a teacher at a muggle school herself, volunteered to find candidates. She had the excellent idea of hiring muggles that are already qualified teachers. They will serve as examples and as teachers."

"Why didn't you propose yourself?" Ron asked her. "You taught all seven of us, you should be good enough."

"It's not the same. They will be at least ten per class."

"In addition," Mr Weasley completed, "Professor Brocklehurst told us that muggle-born children are a lot better than wizard-born children in spelling, grammar and mathematics when they arrive at Hogwarts. They also have a greater general knowledge. That's why we will take inspiration from Muggle programs in our new primary school."

"Are we really going to let Muggles enter the magical world?" Ron insisted, unbelieving.

"We will choose only those who already knew about our existence," Mr Weasley reassured him.

"But… is it only a question of level?" Harry asked, feeling like there was something more.

Mr Weasley smiled, understanding what Harry meant.

"The abrogation of the Statute of Secrecy isn't our goal. But, in all European countries, the space that Muggles are leaving us is getting smaller. Their population is regularly growing and so is ours. Kingsley asked me to study the situation and it is obvious that if things continue like this, we will have to live closer and closer to non-wizards. Because of that, we have to get to know them better and learn to cohabit with them in a way that they don't suspect anything. The more our educations are similar, the easier it will be to blend into muggle neighbourhoods."

"But we aren't changing Hogwarts into a Muggle school, I hope!" Ginny shouted, horrified.

"Of course not," her mother answered.

"We're quite intent on staying wizards," Arthur added. "We couldn't do otherwise. But we can still learn more about them, start using their products, dress like them. And why go all the way to Hogsmeade to buy carrots if our muggle neighbours can sell them to us?"

"But what is going to happen to wizarding shops if everyone starts shopping in muggle supermarkets?" Ron asked, worried.

"We had shortages of primary materials after the Year of Darkness," her father told them. "Kingsley had to ask the Muggle Minister for help to find sold out objects and food. We're still regularly commanding stuff from them. If wizards start directly going to Muggle stores will extremely simplify the Ministry's work. But we will still be developing everything involving magic or that is specifically magic. Your shop doesn't need to worry about anything, Ron. No Muggle shop will ever replace the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes."

He left the three young ones to think about the idea.

"The Obliviators will have quite some work," Harry slowly said after a moment of silence.

"The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office as well," Arthur admitted. "But we don't exactly have a choice. One day, we'll have to live in the middle of Muggles. The sooner we start preparing for it, the better."

Those explanations highly troubled the young people. Assisting to the evolution of one's lifestyle, even when one knows that lifestyle's faults and limits, is always scary. Harry didn't know if he really wanted to see those two communities mix. Switching from the muggle world to the wizarding one had been at the same time a revelation and a rupture for him. Nevertheless, when Ron and Ginny expressed their doubt at the idea of regularly frequenting the muffle world, it was him who pointed out:

"It's not as if the muggle world was completely unknown to you. Ron, you often visit the Grangers, don't you?"

"But I know them!" Ron shouted. "And they know about us, so I can make references to magic."

"Being forced to act like them to not stand out…" Ginny let out hesitantly.

Harry judged that if his friends had so much reluctance towards everything that wasn't wizard despite Hermione's origins and their father's passion for muggle artefacts, the job wouldn't be easy for the ministry.

* * *

The next day, Harry told Ginny:

"Tomorrow, my promotion is meeting at the pub after work. You wanna come along?"

"No, I'd rather not," she refused.

"Why not? They're all nice. And you'll see Vicky and Eleanor again."

"I'll be the only one who isn't an Auror."

"No, you won't," he assured. "We're all allowed to bring or girlfriends and boyfriends."

"That's exactly my problem. I don't want to be there just because I am your girlfriend."

"Sometimes, I feel like you're ashamed of me!" Harry grumbled.

"Harry, I love you, but I need to exist outside of you!"

"Outside of me?" he repeated.

Ginny sighed and pointed out:

"If people see me with you, they'll imagine that I'm a schemer who managed to win the Boy Who Lived's favours because he's my brother's friend.

"You're exaggerating!" Harry cried, sincerely shocked.

"You're young, rich, powerful and famous. Me? I'm nothing. I don't want to be seen as an upstart who was successful only because she married the great hero. I don't want our children to one day be ashamed of me!"

"Ashamed of you?" Harry repeated, flabbergasted. "But the Weasleys are an honourable family!"

"Honourable but poor, Harry. Haven't you noticed?"

Harry thought about her words for a moment before analysing slowly:

"Ginny, you'll never be the equivalent of the Boy Who Lived in other people's eyes."

"I know. But if I impose myself as a _Holyhead Harpy_ before being seen as _Harry Potter's girlfriend_, it would at least be a beginning of legitimacy."

"And if that doesn't work out, will you just dump me?"

Ginny gave herself time to think before she answered. Harry watched her, preparing for the worst. He understood why this social recognition was so important to her. _And if she never manages to feel worthy of me_, he thought with despair, _will she leave me?_ Ron had taken years to find his place next to the famous Harry Potter. Harry wondered whether one day he would manage to take his distances from him.

"Give me three years," Ginny finally said. "Three years to prove myself. If I don't manage, well… at least I'll have tried."

"Three years," Harry repeated.

"Starting from the moment where I joined the Harpies," she added. "From the day where you encouraged me to go to the Three Broomsticks to sign my contract."

Her shoulders sank down suddenly, as if she was scared to have given herself a too heavy burden.

"I'm sorry, Harry. With a brilliant girl like Hermione or a rich one, you wouldn't have these troubles. I know it's arrogant from me to start from nothing and hope to be considered your equal!"

"I consider you my equal," Harry assured her, who in total preferred the arrogant Ginny to the insecure one he was discovering today. "And I have faith in you. You'll manage to show everyone what I see in you."

Harry, shaken, wanted to ditch his colleagues the following evening. But Ginny insisted for him to go anyway:

"You also have a life to build."

Harry admitted that he did really like these cheerful and friendly reunions. He was knitting bonds of professional complicity with his colleagues, which permitted him to slowly get rid of this 'hero' image they had stuck onto him.

"Then go there," she encouraged him. "I think I'll go have dinner at the Burrow."

* * *

Ginny ended up leaving to Holyhead again. The following weeks were not only morally, but also physically difficult for Harry. He now had to fulfil the same work hours as the other Aurors, which meant nights and Sundays spent at the Ministry. He learnt to work for several days straight and to change his hours of sleep. He tried his best to be at home on the days when Ginny came back, swapping his duty hours with kind colleagues. He realised that some of them were often very reserved when they were around him, as if they didn't know how to act towards him. It made him appreciate Pritchard's cheerful friendliness.

At the end of October, he was confronted to his first corpse in a professional setting. Faucett arrived with a mission order:

"Pritchard and Potter, a healer has signalled us a sudden death. You figure it out."

"We're taking the Knight Bus," Pritchard decided after having read the address."

They left the Ministry through the phone booth and called the vehicle.

"By the way, what happened to Stan Shunpike?" Harry asked.

"Azkaban," his instructor answered laconically.

"Was he really a Death Eater?" Harry asked.

Ever since he had disarmed Stan during the battle of the seven potters, he had always wondered whether the latter was under the Imperius Curse.

"No idea," Pritchard admitted. "When we arrested him for the first time, he denied it, but they all do. You'll see, in a month or two, you won't even believe your own mother." He grimaced. "Sorry, my boy. It's only an expression."

"Don't worry," Harry said.

"In any case, Shunpike left with You-Know-Who's friends when they took control of Azkaban."

"Did he have a choice?"

"Some are more talented than others at finding solutions. We've had a few common rights who escaped from them. When we ran into those, we'd leave them free, but we asked them to give us tips if they had any information on the location of Death Eaters. Most of them cooperated. We found some others in the ranks of the Snatchers and others at Hogwarts, like Shunpike. For him, we didn't exactly hesitate. There were enough witnesses of his actions to establish that he wasn't only there to decorate."

"You questioned people after the battle?"

"Of course! How could we have judged them without any proof?"

"It's just… well… no one asked me anything. No one asked my friends, either."

"We left you in peace. Orders of the Minister."

Harry couldn't answer because just then, the Knight Bus pulled in. Any conversations became impossible with all the noise.

The house in front of which they were dropped looked like a small muggle manor: carved rocks, Tudor style. They knocked and a man around sixty, looking haggard, opened the door.

"Auror Office," Pritchard introduced himself. "We're coming for Mrs Eleanor Rigby's death."

"I'm her husband," the man answered in a broken voice.

"I'm sincerely sorry, sir. Could we see her body?"

They were led to a room where a pale, lifeless woman in a nightdress was sprawled on the bed. A wizard in a green dress was inspecting the corpse, making notes with his wand. The beaten down husband left them there, apologising for not being able to stand the view. The two Aurors patiently waited that the healer finished his work.

"Asphodel," he declared laconically. "Not a lot, but enough to kill you if you have a fragile heart."

"Additional exams?" Pritchard asked.

"Only if you need them."

"We'll see. Just use a conservation charm and suspend the burial permit for now."

"Will do," the healer answered.

Harry followed his partner to look for Mr. Rigby. The latter was in the kitchen, fixing his cup of cold tea without really seeing it. Pritchard sat down in front of him.

"Mrs Rigby died from an overdose of asphodel. Did she take some regularly?"

"Yes, she suffered from nervous trouble. But it's our usual healer who prescribed it."

"What's his name?"

After having written the name down, Pritchard continued to question the man on his wife's treatment before declaring:

"We have to control the potions that you have in your house. It's the standard procedure."

The man nodded automatically, then raised his eyes to look at them. For the first time, he seemed to actually take in their presence. His expression changed when he recognised Harry:

"But… I don't know what happened, why…"

"Please, Sir," Pritchard interrupted him. "It's a simple procedure, nothing more. The aspirant Potter joined the ranks of the Aurors a few months ago, don't see any particular reasons to his presence."

Mr Rigby looked at Harry, who smiled nervously.

"I'm sorry to meet you in these circumstances, Mr Rigby."

"My wife admired you a lot," the old man murmured, increasing the young Auror's uneasiness.

"Excuse us, but we have to do our work," Pritchard started again.

He turned towards the room and told Harry:

"You're taking the bathroom."

Harry knew what was expected of him. During the last few weeks, he and the other aspiring Aurors had learnt professional searching spells. He had been thinking how helpful those spells could've been in his quest for Horcruxes. He could now turn off magical hiding spells and magically probe the walls. But the bathroom wasn't hiding anything. Bottles filled with different potions were positioned either on the side of the bathtub or in a small cupboard attached to the wall. He used his wand to neatly mark all the pieces he could find.

Pritchard had taken charge of the room. They then continued their search in the living room and kitchen. Harry felt embarrassed to work like this under the husband's watch, who was visibly lost by the situation. They were almost finished when a woman in her thirties arrived. Harry pretended not to be there while the father and the daughter hugged, in tears. When the arriving girl had got over her emotions, she worried about what an intruder and Harry Potter were doing at her parents' house. Once again, Pritchard gave her his soothing explanations. Harry realised how hard it was to work while intruding in the privacy of two mourning people.

When they left again with a bag filled with confiscated objects, Pritchard asked:

"Everything okay?"

"Yes, it's just… Do we really need to do all this? It's probably just a medication error."

"I know that at the beginning it isn't easy to deal with, but you'll get used to it, don't worry. Most of the time, the deaths are natural or accidental, so we have to know how to talk to families and do our work without hurting them more than necessary. For them, the 'corpse' is still a 'wife' or a 'mother'."

"Ok," said Harry while wondering how he had managed to go through so many bereavements himself without being able to react properly for those of others.

"Nevertheless, it happens that we find something more than just a natural death when we dig a bit deeper. And if there is something more, we don't want it to go unnoticed. Do you know what we're going to do, now?"

"We're going back to the office and make a quick exam of the objects collected during the investigation," Harry recited. "We'll note those that are the most suspect so that they can be analysed by the St Mungo's laboratory. We also go visit the healer who prescribed the asphodel and possibly also the apothecary who sold the medicine."

"Well done, my boy. Can you call the Knight bus?"

They went back to the HQ and made a superficial exam of the potion bottles. Harry had an advanced potions class. The Aurors had to be able to recognise all basic potions and rapidly detect if their composition had been modified. For that kind of overall exam, they verified the colour, the smell and the thickness of the product. Pritchard slightly demoralised Harry when he told him that he would probably need two or three years to fulfil this operation without help. The young Auror felt professor Snape's shadow sneer behind him.

In the end, nothing was suspect, and they only asked for an additional analyse for the medicine itself. They dropped off the flask at St Mungo's, and then tried to contact the healer. It wasn't especially easy, as the latter was visiting his sick patients at their home.

They left an urgent message to his secretary. Then, they went to visit the apothecary at Hogsmeade to confirm the composition of the remedy.

Harry had the surprise of running into Neville. He wasn't the one who had prepared the last bottle sold to Mrs Rigby, but his colleague gave them the complete list of ingredients he had used and confirmed that she was a usual client. Harry and Neville separated, but not without promising each other to meet for lunch one day.

When they finally managed to meet the healer, they didn't learn anything more. The version given by everyone else was confirmed.

"And now?" Pritchard asked Harry.

"On the first look, I'd say that she probably took her medicine twice. But we need to make a proximity investigation to find out whether someone might have tricked her."

"Exactly. Any other elements?"

Harry shook his head.

"Wrong," Pritchard corrected. "The man who made the potion indicated that the medicine has a very strong taste. That means that no one could've given it to her by mixing it to something else. They would've needed to force her to drink it."

"By force?"

"If there were traces of violence on the body, the healer who examined her when we arrived would've told us. So maybe under menace or by Imperius Curse. A small forgetfulness charm shouldn't be forgotten either. You also need to know that even if people tell us that her husband always argued with her or that he would become extremely rich by heritage, we have few chances of proving it."

"So we don't continue the investigation?"

"We do. We never know. But if they seem to be a close couple and he's three times as rich as she is, then we can be more or less sure that there is no murderer in the story!"

Three days later, they closed down the investigation. The couple had no problems, no great riches and the analysed potions didn't reveal anything uncommon. Harry wrote the record under his instructor's watch and concluded in his best writing: _accidental death by __poison._


	12. Chapter 12

**XII - An Autumn at the Ministry**

30th of October – 10th of December 1999

* * *

2nd of May 1998: Battle of Hogwarts  
1st of September 1998 - 30th of June 1999: Harry is in Seventh Year  
6th of September 1999: Harry becomes an aspiring Auror

* * *

"I don't have any proper robes left," Harry complained, standing in front of his wardrobe. It was a Saturday, near the end of October, and Ginny had just come back from Holyhead.

"What?" Ginny asked while she was finishing to brush her hair.

"All my robes are worn out. Even my partner pointed it out. He told me that dressing like a normal person is great, but looking like a beggar doesn't really help the image of the Auror office."

"Are you saying that you're going to work with the same robes you wear on the weekend?" Ginny suddenly understood.

"I don't have any others," Harry confirmed.

"Those are quite shabby, indeed."

"Yeah, okay, I got it. Could you help me? I have no idea where to buy that kind of stuff."

"Harry…" she started, her expression pained.

Harry interrupted her with a gesture.

"I know what you want to say and I have a solution," he declared with a smile. "Look!"

He pointed his wand towards his face and modified it quickly, using the technique that he now mastered perfectly. Ginny was seriously impressed.

"Nice spell," she admired. "Can I indicate my preferences?" she added, curious.

"For the moment, I can only do this face without a mirror," Harry admitted while wondering, slightly troubled, what Ginny's idea was. "So, what do you say? Do you accept to be seen publicly with me, now?"

Ginny's face reflected a strong emotion.

"Thank you for finding a way for us to still do stuff together," she said softly while leaning towards him to kiss him with passion. "Do you know that you're an amazing person?"

"No need to insist," Harry said in a voice that he tried to keep firm. "I never hand out autographs!"

They skimmed the entire Diagon Alley to refill Harry's wardrobe, underwear included. Ginny had very precise ideas on the topic and Harry considered it better to follow her preferences on this point. He wondered in what measure his girlfriend would agree to do the same. He was nevertheless surprised by the amount of clothes she seemed to find essential. On his side, he had a very minimalistic taste in the matter and tried to keep the buying frenzy down. She snapped back that with the fortune he had in his vault, he could dress correctly.

He abandoned the matter, but he suspected her of enjoying herself by spending so much money. She even bought herself two dresses – but from her own wallet, he noticed. He didn't offer to pay for them, scared of offending her.

In the evening, while they were undressing, Ginny asked him to teach her his transfiguration spells. He did his best to show her how it worked and she used the occasion to see if she could change her measurements. She managed way more than she was hoping for – she had slightly overdone it – but the result greatly impressed Harry. Nevertheless, when the spell faded away two hours later, he was happy to find the natural Ginny again. In total, he was quite attached to his little habits.

* * *

His professional life was quite different to what he had imagined, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Like it had been explained to him at his arrival, his work wasn't limited to pursuing Dark Wizards who, thank Merlin, weren't that numerous. On top of investigating suspicious deaths and illegal traffics, they were also often called urgently by co-citizens confronted with serious problems: acts of violence, fishy spells or creatures found in places where they had nothing to do. In the last case, their job was to make sure no wizards or muggles were wounded, while their colleagues from the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures department took charge of the beasts. To be able to go where they were needed quickly, the Aurors often practiced apparition to popular wizarding places.

On the nights where he wasn't sleeping on a camping mattress in the Auror office, Harry did his best to enjoy his evenings. He started by relaxing, comfortably sitting in front of the fire Kreacher had prepared, sipping a Butterbeer. Then, Ron arrived and told him about the latest anecdotes from the shop – always hilarious. After that, the two young men had supper in the kitchen.

Harry was relatively satisfied of Kreacher's service. The latter didn't look after the house as well as he cooked, but neither Harry nor Ron were scandalised of finding dust bunnies under the beds or being handed approximately ironed clothes. Some habits die hard, and the old elf still spent all his time muttering between his teeth. But his words didn't have the bitterness that they used to have, and none of the boys cared to listen to them with attention.

A few months after having moved in, Harry had mentioned the idea of employing another elf to help his servant. The latter had stiffened with emotion. His nose shuddering, his ears trembling, he had articulated with dignity that if his work didn't satisfy Master Harry, he was ready to receive a piece of clothing and go to die somewhere else. Harry had quickly assured him of his great satisfaction and had abandoned his idea. He had nevertheless thought that, despite being not much more than a slave, the elf knew how to impose his will.

Gradually, the two young men had started to establish themselves in the new house. Their bedrooms were private domain – especially when Hermione or Ginny came over – and they shared the living room and library. The kitchen, on the other hand, was under Kreacher's direction.

Both knew where they could stack their stuff and be sure to find them again. Hermione's presence was always very discreet: she always left her coat in the same spot in the entrance and neatly put away the rest of her possessions in Ron's room. If she changed the order of the books in the library shelves, no one noticed. But Ginny's arrival, on the contrary, exposed all the inhabitants of Grimmaurd Place to trip on random shoes lying around in the walkway, to find tea or coffee marks on the magazines, and to see the couch's pillows all over the floor, as she liked to sit down on the floor. It occasionally caused fights between Ron and his sister, as well as irritated remarks from Hermione. Harry always kept a neutral silence, always settling for asking Kreacher to clean up wherever the mess was the worst. The elf always grumbled quietly against the young girl, but he obeyed without too much resistance, as Ginny had won his affection by giving him the autograph of one of the Harpies who was vaguely related to the Black family.

On all Sunday mornings, those who had slept at Grimmaurd Place – Ron, Hermione and less regularly also Harry, Teddy and Ginny – went to the Burrow for the traditional family lunch. There, they reunited with George, Percy, Bill, Fleur, Andromeda and – if his timetable permitted it – Charlie.

They did their best to fit everyone around the table in the garden or in the kitchen and ate in a cheerful atmosphere, which didn't exclude the little internal fights between members of the Weasley siblings. Andromeda told them about Teddy's latest achievements, and they talked about Quidditch, Gobstones, cooking recipes (mostly Molly and Fleur who defended the food of their respective countries), and they summarised the latest news.

After lunch, Harry – who had often eaten way too much of Molly's delicious food – slumped down into an armchair and more or less drowsed away, watching Ron and Fleur play chess. He had noticed with surprise that the young girl regularly won even though she moved her pieces very quickly, not even thinking about it, differently from Ron who considered all his options before moving his pieces. He had wondered about Fleur's method and had ended up asking her aloud.

"I don't have any particular tactic or plan," Bill's wife had answered.

"Me neither," Harry had answered, "and that's why I lose every game."

"Go back to sleep," Ron had advised him, his forehead wrinkled from concentration.

Once his digestion was over and if the weather wasn't too bad – when it wasn't raining cats and dogs, that is – Harry went for a ride on his motorbike, after having carefully disillusioned himself and surrounded his bike with a silencing charm. He discreetly flew over the countryside, with Ginny holding onto his hips. He was almost surprised at seeing her accept such a passive role, but he understood that like him, she was fascinated by the view they had on the fields under them. Even though flying on a broomstick was great, it needed a lot of concentration and wasn't made for looking at the scenery.

Sometimes, Harry and Ginny fought each other in a Seeker's duel, Harry on his Firebolt and his girlfriend on her brother's Cleansweep. Harry had to admit that Ginny's technique was better than his and that she was becoming a formidable opponent, even without her competition broomstick. The two of them flew very differently: he used only his instincts, and she only relied on technique. She didn't foresee the Snitch's trajectory as well as he did, but placed herself better and got her broomstick to make swerves and turns that he wouldn't have believed were possible. Visibly, her training was coming to fruition.

"When are you going to play in your first official match?" he asked her three months after she joined the Harpies.

"I'll only play in friendly matches in my first year," she answered. "I won't play in any championships, unless one of the players is injured and needs to be replaced in the middle of the match. But if we want to win the Cup, it's better if that doesn't happen," she had concluded with a modesty that was rare enough to stand out.

* * *

During his first month at the ministry, Harry had made two encounters that had marked him. The first one had happened two weeks after he joined the Aurors. While he was walking through the ministry corridors to go from one office to the other, pretending not to notice all the stares he was subjected to, he recognised one of the employees and suddenly remembered how much he had worried about him:

"Mr Cattermole?"

The man turned around, seemingly not managing to believe that the great Harry Potter was talking to him.

"What can I do for you, Sir?" he asked while slightly bowing with respect.

"I'm the one who stopped you from joining your wife on the day where she was called to the Ministry during the Year of Darkness," Harry admitted. "My friend Ron had taken your place. I hope the two of you managed to get out of there."

"Thank you for worrying about us," the man answered in an emotional voice. "Everything ended well for us. We followed the advice we were given and went to hide at my brother-in-law's house with our kids, on the muggle side. We also pushed my wife's parents to go live in a Hotel for a while, since the Ministry knew their address."

"That was a good idea," Harry approved.

"We stayed there for the whole war. We were on the verge of leaving the country when he heard that you had vanquished You-Know-Who. We will never be able to thank you enough," he concluded fervently.

"Oh, no problem," Harry concluded, embarrassed. "Well, enjoy your day," he added to take leave.

While he was walking away, he saw in the corner of his eye how all of his interlocutor's colleagues ran towards him, probably to ask what the Boy Who Lived had wanted from him. Harry wondered whether the employee's career would be favoured by it.

* * *

A few weeks later, Hermione invited Harry to come and have lunch with her. At the planned time, he left his office to join his friend in hers. But when the singing voice indicated that he had arrived at his destination and he left the elevator, he found himself in an unknown corridor.

He was resigned to just knock at the first door to ask for the way when a familiar silhouette appeared in front of him. He immediately felt his guts clenching together. Four years had passed, but he realised that he still couldn't look Amos Diggory in the eye.

"Harry," the man pronounced in a pained voice.

Two unbearable seconds passed – but to Harry they felt like ten – before Amos managed to pull himself together again.

"Hello, my boy. What brings you here?"

"I… I'm looking for Hermione," Harry stammered. "Hermione Granger."

"Of course, of course. Just follow this corridor; it's the first door to the right after the turn."

"Thank you, Sir."

They nodded to each other and separated. Mr Diggory stepped into the elevator and Harry started to walk forwards mechanically. He felt nauseous and his legs were trembling. He wondered for how long meeting Cedric's father would still be such a challenge. He knocked on the door that the latter had indicated and entered the room when Hermione invited him to come in.

She was visibly busy dictating a memo. She signed to him to wait for a minute and Harry didn't complain about this rest. When the young girl energetically concluded her message and made it fly off with an elegant flick of her wand, Harry was almost in a state where he could offer her a smile.

* * *

On a November evening, the aspirants from Harry's year and from the year above them went out for Butterbeers together, like they regularly did. The conversation turned to how they had all been recruited into the Auror body. Those who had joined at the same time as Harry had, like him, presented their application after having obtained five E's in their NEWTs. The older ones, on the other hand, had had a more unusual journey. Angelina and Alicia had already left Hogwarts and had another job when they had been approached. Seamus, Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein had been contacted after the catch-up sessions organised by Aristotle Brocklehurst, when they had passed their final exams at Hogwarts.

"I've been really lucky," Seamus congratulated himself. "When I saw that I had gotten only four E's, I thought it was over. I was overjoyed when they offered me this apprenticeship."

Harry almost choked on his Butterbeer. Of course, he should've understood earlier that the aspirants from that year hadn't needed to present a report card with their marks. It was obvious, since even Ron who hadn't even written the exams had been invited by the Auror Office. But why on Earth had he been forced to go for another year at Hogwarts when everyone else hadn't needed any other qualifications than their participation in Voldemort's downfall? Hadn't he done more than all of them?

He controlled his coughing fit under his colleagues' worried looks, signing to them that everything was okay, but he spent the rest of the evening brooding in his corner. He didn't mention it to Ron when he came home, as he knew that it would be indelicate to remind his friend that he could've had the career he was dreaming about if he hadn't decided to stay with his brother. Harry didn't mention his thoughts the following evening either, where they were eating dinner with Hermione and Ginny.

Later, while he was busy brushing his teeth in the bathroom next to his room, Ginny planted herself in front of him, brushing her hair.

"What's going on with you today?" she asked.

"Nothing," Harry answered, his mouth filled with toothpaste.

Ginny didn't insist and continued her brushing. She really had beautiful hair, blazing red, which fell until the middle of her back. She usually plaited them when she flew, but the rest of the time, she either had them open or in a ponytail. Harry watched her while she in turn brushed her teeth and grabbed a potion from the bathroom cabinet – which Harry had installed for her – and washed her face with it.

Back in the room, she took off the bathrobe that she had been wearing over her nightie and went to bed. Harry slowly undressed and slipped in next to her. Leaning back on her pillow, she was reading _Which Broomstick_, but he knew that she was ready to listen.

"The Aurors invited everyone who participated in the battle to join them. I mean, the younger ones," he corrected himself. "But who were done with school," he pointed out again.

Ginny stayed quiet, but lowered her magazine to look at him attentively.

"Why did they never offer anything to me?" Harry finally formulated.

"You wanted to get your NEWTs," Ginny guessed.

"No, I never liked to study. Everyone knew that I wanted to become an Auror and I only went back to Hogwarts to obtain those damn E's!"

He hadn't been able to control his voice, and the end of the sentence showed the anger he was feeling.

"What irritates you the most about that?" Ginny patiently questioned.

Harry inspired and expired slowly to calm himself down.

"I'd like to know why Kingsley didn't want me to be employed at that moment."

"You think he was the one who…"

"I'm sure it was him!"

Ginny thought for a moment and asked:

"So do you think it would've been better if you immediately became an Auror?"

"It would've saved me from losing a year."

"Was it really a wasted year for you?"

He almost yelled _Yes!_, but he stopped himself in time, thinking that it wouldn't be very nice towards the young woman. After all, he had spent most of his time in her company.

"I was happy to be with you," he said carefully.

She made a movement with her head that indicated that it wasn't what she meant. She specified:

"You settled some important things, didn't you? You were able to breathe a little, you took the decision of living here, you pronounced your political opinions, you got to know Teddy…"

It wasn't completely false. He remembered his serenity during the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. He had had time to accept the deaths of his friends, to resume a serene life, to take his distances from what everyone called the Year of Darkness. He didn't really know whether it would've been beneficial for him to re-plunge into the war by tracking the last Death Eaters with the Aurors. His retreat to Hogwarts had also kept him away from the trials and the plots to get rid of Kingsley. Having heard about all of that through letters and newspapers had been more than enough.

But he needed to be reassured on one point:

"Do you think… Do you think Kingsley knew that I could help him politically when he decided that for me?"

Ginny considered the idea and shook her head negatively.

"I think he was only focused on your good when he decided to leave you a last year at Hogwarts. It's Hermione who suggested that you publicly pronounce yourself in his favour. And you wouldn't have needed to do it without Rita Skeeter's article. Kingsley isn't a manipulator."

Dumbledore's shadow slipped into Harry's mind. He thought that even if the Minister only had best intentions at heart, he would've liked to be able to choose for himself. Wasn't he allowed to make his own mistakes? The effort that others were making to lead him towards the right choices was saying a lot about what they thought of his capacities to think for himself. Did he really radiate such an impression that he wasn't able to make right choices? Was this lack of confidence justified?

Ginny interrupted his reflexions:

"I know that it's not necessarily the most important, but I don't know whether I'd be here today if he hadn't had all this time together last year."

"Of course it's important!" Harry shouted.

He wasn't saying that to be gallant or to please her. He knew how lucky he was to have her by his side. Okay, she wasn't always easy to live with, and her thirst for acknowledgement was sometimes irritating. But when Harry saw completely unknown women blush when meeting his gaze, chuckle or try their best to please him just because he was the Boy Who Lived, he measured how much the hardly won affection that Ginny had for him was reassuring. It was a space in which he could build himself, a mirror without complacency that showed him how far he was. She really loved him how he was, accepting his impulses, his blunders, his clumsiness. She gave him what little others were ready to give him: a love that had nothing to do with him being the Boy Who Lived, this deformed image which always interposed itself between others and him.

He had needed time to determine how much she was important to him. And their last common year at Hogwarts had been very important in that realisation. He had been surprised when she had decided to leave for Holyhead, but their last discussion on that subject had led him to understand what was pushing her to do it. And a few more weeks of additional thinking had convinced him that she was right. If they wanted their couple to have a chance to hold, it was important that Ginny acquired as much self-esteem as she had for him.

He knew that some people would take Ginny's bragging for arrogance. It was true that she often said, during their last year at Hogwarts, that she was good at Quidditch, that she was definitely worth everyone who had fought during the war. Harry now understood that she was claiming these qualities more to convince herself of her worth than to convince others. In addition, now that she was gradually finding her place with the Harpies, she was bragging less and less and even started to recognise that she still had a lot of work in front of her to reach the other players' level.

It was with an infinite amount of tenderness that he hugged her.

"It's true that if it persuaded you to stay by my side, that year wasn't wasted at all," he whispered into her ear.

* * *

Two weeks later, Harry was busy filling in a report form when Owen Harper approached his desk:

"I did some research for the Quidditch team," he announced. "Generally, the inter-minister matches start in April, which leaves us five months to train. Except for the Department of Magical Sports' team, the general level isn't very high."

"But we'll have to compose the team, choose a captain…"

"I already have the composition," Harper replied. "Chasers: Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson and me. Beaters: Albert Hurtz and Primrose Dagworth. Keeper and captain: Hilliard Hobday. And you'll be Seeker."

"Why me? You're also good."

"Potter, stop being modest. Everyone knows you've always been the best, ever since your first year."

"That good?" Pritchard intervened from his desk.

"He never let anyone else catch the Snitch," Harper confirmed.

"That's not true," Harry protested.

"The first time, there were Dementors," his colleague opposed. "And the second time, your Keeper knocked you unconscious."

"I didn't play in all matches," Harry tempered.

"But when you did play, it was spectacular. I loved the time when you cast a Patronus against that idiotic Malfoy just before catching the Snitch.

Harry looked at Harper, surprised to realise that he was such a supporter.

"Wow," Pritchard admired. "Nice prize list. But why cast a Patronus onto that Malfoy?"

"He was dressed as a Dementor to make fun of Harry," Harper revealed, shrugging his shoulders to show how unimpressed he was of the process.

"You didn't like Malfoy?" Harry wondered.

Harper looked at him mockingly.

"Does it surprise you? Do I need to like all Slytherins just because I'm one? Did you like all Gryffindors?"

"Err, no," Harry admitted.

He saw that Pritchard was following their exchange with an upsurge of acuity and felt slightly in the minority.

"And in case you're wondering," Harper continued, "I don't hate all Gryffindors either. I know how to differentiate between my opponents and my enemies."

Harry felt like he had to answer:

"I also know the difference," he affirmed.

He turned towards his partner and indicated.

"And I've definitely understood that not all Slytherins approved of Voldemort."

Harper jumped when he heard the name, but Pritchard didn't seem any troubled. He just looked back at Harry while giving him his famous half-smile.

* * *

On a Friday morning, Harry found a note on the kitchen table:

_Invited George for dinner today. You coming back late?_

Harry quickly scribbled:

_Around 8 o'clock. Start eating without me._

Hermione would be there as well, since it was Friday, but not Ginny, sadly. Luckily, she was coming back for an entire week for the holidays at the end of the month. He was waiting for that moment impatiently even though he knew that he would have work and that he wouldn't enjoy her presence as much as he wanted to.

When he came home twelve hours later, Ron was serving to drink to George and a very beautiful young girl that he didn't know.

"Who's that?" he quietly asked Hermione, who had stepped forwards to welcome him.

"Ron and George's new assistant. Didn't he tell you?"

"We haven't really seen each other this week," Harry justified. "I've had a lot of over-hours."

"And you don't recognise her?"

"Should I?"

"It's Eloise Midgen. She was in our year, in Hufflepuff."

Harry felt his jaw drop. Even when adding acne, he had trouble matching her to the girl he remembered.

"Who would've thought she'd become this pretty," Hermione commented mockingly. "What a pity that none of you wanted to invite her to the Yule Ball, hey?"

Harry needed several seconds to realise what Hermione was talking about. When he finally remembered the scene, he thought to himself that girls had an elephant's memory and tenacious rancour. Harry closed his gaping mouth and joined the three others to greet them. Later, while sipping his mead, Harry asked Eloise:

"Did you work in any other shops before joining the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?"

"I had a few small jobs on the muggle side," she admitted with an embarrassed smile.

"Really?"

"It was during the Year of Darkness. I couldn't go back to Hogwarts, since my parents are Muggles. But we weren't put in danger thanks to my friend Don Stebbins who convinced his father to protect my house. Since I didn't have a diploma, I took the best job I could find: cashier in a supermarket."

The Weasley boys looked at her without understanding.

"I made the people pay when they left a very big shop," the young girl explained. "It's completely different to here: you just take the money without talking to your clients. They're so numerous that there's always a huge queue, and everyone is always in a hurry. Anyways, I only found out last December that the war was over on the wizard side, and it was too late to go back to school."

"Why didn't Stebbins tell you that we had retaken Hogwarts?" Harry wondered.

He quickly found out that it was a blunder when Ron and George cast him a consternated look and Hermione kicked him hardly in the shins.

"Don followed his father into the countryside and they were killed by Snatchers. They were pure-bloods, but highly opposed to You-Know-Who's regime."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologised, troubled.

"You couldn't have known," Eloise exempted him in a sad voice. "In any case, my parents didn't want me to come back to the wizarding world. They thought it was too dangerous. But a month ago, I decided I couldn't stand it anymore. My job was horrible and I was horribly missing the wizarding world. And I was scared that one day I wouldn't be able to suppress my magic anymore. The more time passed, the more I felt that when I got angry or sad, there would be a tingling in my hands, as if the magic was trying to get out. I was pretty sure that one day, it would just explode out and I would injure someone."

Harry exchanged a look with Hermione and Ron. They knew to what point the young girl's worries weren't exaggerated.

"My parents weren't happy, but I decided to try at least once. Last week, I went to Hogsmeade and to Diagon Alley, telling myself that if I didn't find a job, I'd give up. But I was lucky; Ron and George agreed to take me as an apprentice."

"We were really desperately needing someone," Ron justified, his ears red.

"How lucky!" Hermione commented.

Her tone was sincere and only Ron and Harry could detect sarcasm in her voice, especially since she immediately added:

"You should invite your parents to visit Diagon Alley, maybe it'll reassure them."

"It's a good idea, I'll think about it," Eloise answered with a thankful smile.

She really was very beautiful.

The evening was enjoyable, especially since George – to please their guest – tried his best to participate in the conversation. Harry decided that it was an experience to renew. Maybe they could invite Neville or Dean. Or why not their old Quidditch team? He would be happy to reunite with Oliver Wood and Katie Bell. Alicia and Angelina, who worked with him in the Auror office, would obviously also be invited.

Yes, that could make a pleasant evening – except maybe for Hermione!

* * *

Note : Fleur being an amazing chess player is inspired by 'Trois délicieux repas par jour' by **Fenice**.


	13. Begin of a Career

**X – Begin of a Career**

_13_ _th_ _ of December 1999 – 4_ _th_ _ of Mars 2000_

* * *

**2nd of May 1998**: Battle of Hogwarts  
**1st of September 1998 - 30th of June 1999**: Harry is in Seventh Year  
**6th of September 1999**: Harry becomes an aspiring Auror

* * *

“It’s crazy, this year,” Ron complained one evening two weeks before Christmas, slumped in his chair. “We’ve never seen that many customers. We’ll probably open next Sunday. George is starting to ask himself whether we shouldn’t employ an extra person for the week.”

“Kreacher can help Master Ron,” the Elf affirmed while serving him a full plate.

“That’s nice of you, but you’ll have to be at the counter,” the shopkeeper declined.

“Kreacher can do it,” the House Elf repeated.

“Really? Your client buys two products: the one costs five Sickles and three Knuts and the other costs three Sickles and seventeen Knuts. He gives you a galleon. How much do you give him back?”

“Eight Sickles and nine Knuts,” Kreacher answered almost immediately.

The boys needed a few extra seconds to complete the equation as well. They looked at the elf, flabbergasted to find out that he had got the right answer so quickly.

“How did you do that?” Harry asked.

“Kreacher goes shopping every day for Master Harry and Master Ron,” the servant replied in an offended voice. “A good elf must know how to count to not waste his masters’ money.”

Effectively, every week, Harry dropped a few coins into a box in the kitchen that was planned for that purpose, but he had never thought about the way in which his employee used it.

“Where do you go shopping?” he asked with curiosity, realising that he had never seen an Elf in the streets of Hogsmeade or on Diagon Alley.

“In the back rooms,” Kreacher answered mysteriously.

Noticing Harry’s puzzled look, Ron explained:

“All shops have a small room in the back where elves can discreetly apparate to. That’s where they’re served.”

“You have that kind of place in your shop?” Harry asked, slightly shocked.

“Yes, but in general people come to buy their joke items themselves.”

“And what does Hermione think about it?” Harry asked, wondering why he had never heard his friend complain about that practice.

“There’s no law stopping elves from shopping normally, so the Ministry can’t do anything,” Ron explained. “And when Elves are offered to come into the shop, they usually refuse.”

“You can have some bad encounters there,” Kreacher indicated with disgust. “Blood traitors, wizards from disrespected families…”

Harry and Ron looked at each other and, after a glance, they decided not to answer.

“Well, I can take you for a try tomorrow,” Ron decided. “If Harry agrees, of course.”

“If Kreacher isn’t too scared to meet wizards from disrespected families,” Harry accepted.

“Kreacher can undergo that to help his young Master,” the servant assured stoically.

*

On the following Saturday, Ginny and Hermione decided to check out for themselves how Kreacher was dealing with his new job. Harry transfigured himself carefully to make sure he didn’t create any riots, and they took a pinch of Floo Powder to travel to Diagon Alley via the Leaky Cauldron’s fireplace. There were a lot of people in the Weasley brothers’ shop when they entered. While Ginny melted into the crowd to complete her Christmas shopping, Harry and Hermione positioned themselves in a corner to watch how people reacted when seeing a House Elf behind the counter.

In a first time, the customers laughed at that spectacle, probably thinking that it was an extra joke. Then, when the creature authoritatively took the items placed on the counter and announced the total price, their expression changed. Those who were handed change back checked it with suspicion and, when they noticed that the amount was correct, they looked at the surprising cashier with a surprise sometimes mixed with embarrassment or disgust.

Harry saw Ginny have a long discussion with Kreacher when it was her turn. She came back towards them, visibly furious.

“Filthy idiot!” she pestered. “He refused to give me the ten percent off that my brothers always allow me. Apparently, he wasn’t given instructions to.”

“Ron probably forgot to point it out,” Harry answered, looking around until he saw his friend busy showing clients around.

“Couldn’t he just take my word for it?” Ginny raged.

“Elves are incorruptible,” Hermione recited as if she was advertising a placement post for one of her protected elves.

“In any case, Harry, you owe me seven Sickles and twenty-one Knuts.”

“Why me?” Harry protested.

“It’s your elf!” Ginny declared firmly.

While he was opening his wallet, Harry wondered how the Weasleys, even though they were so poor, managed to have children so hard in bargain.

*

As usual, the Weasleys and Co met at the Burrow for Christmas Eve. Around a delicious meal, the conversation turned to Kreacher’s performance.

“He was fantastic,” Ron assured them. “Not a single counting error, although it’s easy to lose track when there are so many people!”

“It’s a shame he didn’t want to come this evening,” Molly sighed.

Ron had indeed offered it to the Elf, but the creature had declined, pretexting that it wasn’t appropriate. He had nevertheless let himself be convinced to join his brethren at Hogwarts and had left with a huge bag of sweets and small presents prepared by the two Weasley brothers.

“So, Hermione,” George asked, “when are you going to start sending elves to every shop?”

“Not any time soon,” Hermione sighed.

“Why not?” a surprised Harry asked.

“In your opinion, what will people think when they realise that elves can be employed instead of them and do work just as well, if not better?”

“They will blame them,” Harry understood.

“Exactly. I’ve known since long that elves can read, write and count. But I’m hesitating to really put that quality on display. Disdain is already difficult enough to battle. But resentment… especially since one doesn’t exclude the other.”

“But then, you’ll leave them to look after household tasks?” Ginny asked, visibly hostile towards that idea.

“At the Ministry, we’re trying to look for a slot they could appropriate themselves without making concurrence to wizards. Just like Goblins invested in the bank; no one could protest about that, since no one had thought about it before. It’s the best way for them to really become independent.”

“It won’t happen from one day to the other,” Ron estimated.

“We never imagined it to be easy or fast,” Hermione replied. “If you had listened a bit better in History of Magic lessons, you would know that it took centuries for us to manage to live side by side with Goblins peacefully. In this case, since wizards aren’t scared of elves, it should happen slightly faster. But it will still need at least two generations.”

After supper, they proceeded to the traditional exchange of presents. Harry had received a large doubled cape that was magically waterproofed, which would be quite comfortable when he was on duty. She had even chosen him quite a discreet model, not too luxurious, so that he could stay unnoticed. On his side, he had gotten her a very pretty evening dress that was a lot more expensive than what she usually spent on clothing.

Mrs Weasley stepped towards the radio, probably so that she wouldn’t miss the moment when her favourite singer would be announced, but a cough from Bill interrupted her:

“Hum, hum,” he started. “Fleur and I have something to announce.”

All eyes turned towards the young couple. Anticipating the news, smiles began to sprout.

“A new little Weasley will join us in the following May,” the future father confirmed.

Mrs Weasley ran towards them and took her son and daughter-in-law in her arms:

“Oh, my children, what a joy, what a joy!”

Arthur joined them, tears in his eyes. He clapped Bill on the back and kissed Fleur on the cheek:

“It’s the best Christmas present you could’ve given us,” he affirmed.

Everyone drank to the baby, and in the euphoria of the moment, Mrs Weasley completely forgot about Celestina Warbeck.

*

On the morning of the first of January, Harry was on guard duty. As soon as he arrived at the HQ, he was sent to Diagon Alley. Pritchard was already there. Under the eyes of a few passer-by’s, he was looking at a limp body in one of the alleys that meandered behind the shops. When he saw Harry, he signed to him to come closer and explained:

“We were signalled this corpse this morning. Stone dead, apparently from a knife. Look at the wound in his thorax. It’s not bleeding anymore, and the body is stiff, so it happened quite a while ago. A healer will come to take charge of it, but we’ll collect the first clues like professionals. So, wound by blade, length…” (he put his wand on the wound and cast a measuring spell) “three centimetres. That’s either a small knife or large pocket knife.”

He put his hand on the deceased’s torso and palpated softly.

“Broken rib,” he announced. “Look, press here and on the other side, can you feel the difference?”

“Yes,” Harry answered after having completed the action.

“Did you read what was explained about that in your manual?”

Harry, who hadn’t even bought the books he was supposed to study with, blushed.

“If I was you, my boy, I’d get started right now,” his instructor advised. “Otherwise, when you’ll suddenly have to learn three thousand pages off by heart for your exam, you’ll mix up everything. So if you study in parallel to what we do, it’ll make more sense in your little aspirant’s head.”

Harry, embarrassed, nodded to show he had understood. Pritchard continued his presentation:

“So, the blow was struck with a certain force. The killer is probably male. Now, let’s make a description of the victim. I already searched his pockets, there’s nothing that could give us his identity. So, take out your notebook and get to work!”

Harry enunciated while he was writing:

“Human, male, light skin, light brown hair, brown eyes, average build, err…”

Pritchard looked at the corpse’s mouth and added:

“Teeth without any particular sign, size…” (He used another measuring charm) “One metre seventy-nine. Wearing a dirty brown cotton robe, beige trimmings at the wrists and neck. No wallet on him, empty pockets, not even a wand. Was probably robbed. Okay, let’s take a picture of him.”

He pulled a camera out of his purse. Pritchard’s chaplain was made with the same principle as Hermione’s beaded handbag. Harry had interrogated Pritchard on the subject, and his instructor had pointed out that all Aurors had one of them. Like that, they always had the instruments with them that could help them in their investigations. Other professions, such as the healers, also used them for first-aid items.

Harry had asked his friend whether she had gotten her inspiration from a purse hanging around Kingsley’s or Tonks’ waist. Hermione had admitted that the metamorphmagus had once shown her hers and that she had later remembered that when planning their trip. Harry had found a huge number of them in a shop in Diagon Alley.

Pritchard briefly combed the man’s hair and wiped away the blood that was trickling down the side of his mouth. Then, he photographed him for further reference.

While he was finishing, a tired-looking man stepped towards them. His green overall designated him as a healer.

“Here’s a client for you,” Prichard announced. “We’d like to know how he died, at what time exactly, if he had food before that, his general health status, and then we’d like him to be preserved until the end of the investigation.”

“I love your little presents, Pritchard,” the man yawned, “but I would enjoy them better later in the day and even later in the year.”

“Magic belongs to those who stand up early,” Harry’s partner replied. “We’ll leave him to you; we’re going to have a natter with our first witness to continue the investigation in happiness and a good mood.”

The two Aurors and the healer separated and Pritchard asked to all the surrounding people:

“Who alerted us?”

A slightly overweight man in a dirty apron stepped forward:

“I did. I found him there. I don’t know who did that.”

Pritchard looked at the other gapers.

“No one has any declarations to do about this sad event?”

They shook their heads, avoiding his gaze.

“Well, get lost! Show is over.”

While the onlookers slowly started going away, Harry’s partner started his interrogatory.

“Your name, your address, time at which you discovered the body?”

“Howard Belly. I own the bar that is right there. I saw him when I came out to collect my delivery of Butterbeer this morning and I alerted you.”

“Where are your barrels?” Prichard asked while looking around him.

“I brought all of them inside,” the man explained, shrugging.

“When exactly?”

“Dunno.”

“You weren’t in too much of a hurry to alert us, hey?”

“And? He’s dead, it ain’t gonna make a difference. Me, if I don’t pack away my wares, they can get stolen.”

“And while you were at it, you hid all the illegal drinks and herbs you had in your possession, right?”

“If you say so,” the innkeeper answered sarcastically.

“I want the exact time when you discovered the body,” Pritchard repeated dryly.

“Around seven,” the witness finally answered.

“Weeeeell, I see you’re getting your memory back. Have you ever seen the guy before? In your bar yesterday evening, for example.”

“It’s possible…”

“Do you know his name? Is he a frequent client?”

“It wasn’t the first time I saw him, but I don’t know how he’s called.”

“Did he come alone or with other people? When did he arrive? At what time did you see him last?”

“How should I know? There’s ’round fifty people in my bar that wanted drinks immediately, so I didn’t have time to chat. I’m a barman, not a babysitter.”

“When did he arrive?” Pritchard insisted.

“Early evening, I’d say. Maybe six o’clock.”

“Left?”

“Dunno, I told you. He wasn’t there when I closed at midnight. Don’t come digging for chizpurfles in my head.”

“You didn’t come out into the alley, yesterday evening?”

“I did, to bring out my empty barrels, but there ain’t no light. So I can’t tell you if he was already there.”

“Fantastic,” Pritchard groaned. “Well, we’re going to leave. You, stay in the area, we might come back with more questions.”

“Mmmh.”

Harry and his partner went back to the HQ, hoping that someone had prepared coffee.

*

On the way back, Pritchard briefly summarised the situation to Harry.

“It’s possible that it was just a drunken fight that ended badly. In that case, if we don’t have any witnesses that saw the scene or saw them leave together, we have little chances to figure it out. It can also be a planned murder, be it because of a family, money or love problem. That’s why we’ll investigate about his private life… once we’ve identified him. We’ll start by printing the photo, showing them to colleagues and compare it to those we have in our folders.”

“Someone stole all his belongings,” Harry pointed out. “Maybe that was the reason.”

“Pickpockets usually aren’t murderers. They’ll rather go for knocking out their victims. It would only make sense if he had a very important object on him. In this case, we come back to the hypothesis of a planned murder. How does one identify a dead or unconscious wizard?”

Harry hadn’t mugged up his lessons, but he knew the answer:

“You show his wand to Ollivander.”

“Exactly. Taking away the want can be a tactic to make us lose time. I bet you that the other stuff was only stolen to make the wand’s disappearance less obvious. The murderer tried to complicate our task.”

“So you’re saying it was planned beforehand?”

“Not necessarily. It could be a fight that got out of hand, a clumsy stab, and an unintentional murderer who panics. For tomorrow, I want you to give me a list of all the official ways to identify someone. You can add to it the method that is most commonly used, even if it isn’t in your manual: when the photo is done, we’ll send it to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Three quarters of all British wizards and witches went to school, which makes teachers precious sources of information. The younger a person is, the more you have chances to get facts about him.”

Harry had never developed a wizarding picture and didn’t know that it was part of the Auror’s hidden talents. While he was being explained the principle and the spells to use, he had a thought for Colin Crivey. He wondered what job the young man would have chosen if he had survived. Maybe he would’ve liked to have a career in journalism…

The development was more delicate than if they had taken a picture of a living person. This was because the magic of the camera caught a part of the wizard or witch’s energy, and that’s how the personality of the model was represented in the picture. But in their case, they could only become a static picture. To make the identification easier – wizards were troubled by unanimated pictures and it distracted them – they had to use a special spell that made the subject move artificially. Harry took that in charge and managed it decently on his first try – their model just had slightly jerky movements.

“That’s good enough.” Pritchard decided. “It’s pretty good for a first time.”

They wrote a letter to Aristotle Brocklehurst and handed the picture around to their colleagues, in case one of them could give them information on their mysterious victim. Visibly, no one had worried about his absence to a point where they alerted the Ministry. They also looked for eventual details on the innkeeper, but only found an old investigation about a fraud in the way he obtained his beer. Harry quickly went home for dinner, then went back to meet his partner at the tavern where the murder had been committed.

*

They posted themselves at the entrance and showed their picture to everyone who entered the pub. At first, the clients seemed rather reluctant to answer. But after realising that they were in the presence of Harry – he hadn’t transfigured himself – they changed into first-rate citizens ready to do anything to help the ministry. Sadly, most of them couldn’t bring them any helpful information: they didn’t know the person on the photo. Some had seen him in the bar once or twice, but didn’t remember ever having talked to him.

“Is it just an impression or am I actually scaring them?” Harry asked between two arrivals.

“Oh yes, my boy,” his partner answered. “You’re the nightmare of everyone who doesn’t have a perfectly clear conscience. That’s just how popularity works.”

Harry thought about that information for a while before he declared:

“You know, I think I found a way to easily capture Dark Wizards.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. We put our suspects face to face with a boggart. If Voldemort appears, we can let them go. If it’s me, we can send them straight to Azkaban!”

Pritchard fixed Harry for a few seconds before he burst out laughing.

“I was scared that you had no sense of humour,” he ended up hiccoughing, “but now, I’m reassured. We’ll get along great!”

_Oh yeah, _Harry thought. _Seeing the Weasleys on a regular basis can leave its marks._

At around eleven o’clock, the innkeeper came out to scowl them:

“Say, have ya finished annoying my clients? I need to earn a living, here.”

“It’s therefore in your best interest if our investigation finishes soon,” Pritchard snapped back. “Are you sure you told us all you knew?”

“I didn’t see anything, I told ya!”

“If you remember a detail or if you hear anything interesting, you call us,” Pritchard demanded.

“If I accept, you’ll leave?”

“If you accept, we won’t ask our colleagues to come here every evening to search all your clients,” the Auror answered severely.

The man went back into the bar, visibly furious.

“We’re still staying for half an hour,” Pritchard decided, but from the tone of his voice, Harry understood that he didn’t have much hope to still find a helpful witness.

*

The next morning, they received an owl from Hogwarts, indicating the name of their victim: Robert Kimberley. He was thirty-five years old and had graduated from Ravenclaw seventeen years ago.

A little research permitted them to determine that he had lived in the suburbs of Liverpool and that he was a bachelor. He worked for a print worker, but his current boss hadn’t worried about his employee’s absence. Since it was the festive season, the latter had a few weeks off.

They interrogated his colleagues and learnt that Kimberley liked bets and gambling. Harry and his partner therefore went to visit establishments famous for proposing poker tables on Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. Two tenants admitted half-heartedly that he was a regular client, and Pritchard decided to turn the investigation in that direction.

“Do you think he owed money to someone?”

“Or someone owed him some. There’s more use in getting rid of a creditor than a debtor.”

*

When he came back home the following evening, Harry let himself fall on an armchair in front of the fire. He poured himself a glass of Firewhisky instead of the usual Butterbeer and tried to find out what was exhausting him to that point. Maybe it was the case on which he was working – his first real investigation. Not only the crime itself, but he was also getting the impression that, despite all his adventures, he hadn’t seen that much of the wizarding world, having stayed locked in school, at the Burrow or under a tent with his friends. Frequenting Aurors as well as questioning crooks, innkeepers and others had led the young man to discover a universe very different to the one he thought he knew.

It was as if new horizons were opening themselves to him every day. He was getting used to hearing slang, being in sordid situations, and listening to his colleagues describing their love life in a very crude way. He had been surprised by the machismo he heard in some of the Auror’s words. Visibly, except for a few special cases, most women in the Auror body had only arrived recently, and the older members sometimes seemed to think that their feminine colleagues didn’t belong in the HQ. They didn’t refrain themselves from making sexist comments, not even caring to check whether there were any girls around. Harry was surprised not to see them snap back more, but they seemed to prefer pretending they hadn’t heard anything rather than opening a direct conflict with their tormentors. It was probably a good thing for the group’s teamwork, but Harry still didn’t like it. It made him even more uncomfortable to know that if he tried to do anything against it, he would only create a commotion. He was already in the centre of attention enough these days.

He couldn’t understand what made certain people feel superior to women. Most of those he knew had always seemed to hold their place. The cold Petunia wasn’t especially submissive towards her husband – but their narrow mind and their lack of heart didn’t make them any better. The brilliant Hermione, the incorruptible Minerva, the warm and comforting Molly, the courageous Ginny, the dignified Andromeda and even the wild Bellatrix had managed to force his respect – even if it was mixed with disgust and hatred in what concerned the horrible Death Eater.

It was true that their investigations sometimes brought them to frequent prostitutes, who weren’t an example of feminine empowerment. Harry couldn’t stop himself from being embarrassed in their presence. When his partner had teased him about it, Harry had snapped back that he didn’t want to be on the first page of a tabloid. But in reality, besides his puritanical education, Harry was profoundly shocked that one could sell their intimacy for money. For him, who was so attached to his freedom that he had managed to resist to Voldemort’s _Imperio_ when he was fourteen years old, that sacrifice seemed monstrous.

His current investigation was still broadening his knowledge by making him discover the universe of gambling and everything connected to it: fraud, cheating, embezzlement. According to Pritchard, even Goblins profited from this lucrative market.

At the rhythm at which days were passing, the two Aurors found out more about their victim. It seemed like the man had two debtors. Harry and Pritchard didn’t know their names, but they had received a description of what they looked like. They were now waiting for one of them to show up in the gambling environment and that the tenant of the place called them.

*

Harry was so occupied by his investigation – he only stopped thinking about it when he was with Ginny or Teddy – that he was almost surprised when Ron suggested inviting someone again for the end of January:

“We could invite Neville for dinner. Or Luna.”

“Luna is overseas,” Harry reminded him. “The Christmas card that Ginny got from her came from Reykjavik, and she was announcing her departure for Norway.”

“Searching for her Crumple-Horned Snorkacks again,” Ron smiled. “I’ll send an owl to Neville.”

In his answer, Neville asked whether they could rather meet during the week, since he was spending his weekends with his girlfriend.

“I didn’t know he had one,” Harry remarked when Ron told him about their friend’s answer.

“Hermione told him about it. She doesn’t approve of Neville’s choice, actually.”

“Why not?”

“Apparently, his girlfriend looks at Neville with adoration and always brags that her boyfriend is a Hogwarts hero.”

“How does Hermione know that?” Harry wondered while thinking that his own girlfriend was doing exactly the contrary.

“Hermione’s still in contact with a lot of people. I always wonder how she manages to answer to all the owls she’s receiving. She even stayed in contact with Lavender and Parvati. Thanks to them, she knows all the latest gossip.”

“And how are they doing?” Harry asked even though he didn’t really care.

“If I remember well, Lavender has a new boyfriend and Parvati’s writing fashion articles for the _Prophet_. In case it interests you, we’ll be wearing hoods on our robes this summer.”

“Fantastic!” Harry said, trying to imagine how that would look.

“It’s because spring is looking rainy,” Ron explained very seriously.

He cast Harry an amused look before adding:

“You’re too naïve, Harry! Hermione knows that there’s no point telling me about fashion.”

*

Neville, Harry and Ron were very happy to meet again. Neville remembered how the Aurors had suddenly arrived in his apothecary a few months ago.

“Your partner has an impressive voice when he says ‘Auror Office, could you please answer our questions’,” Neville remarked with a laugh.

“We weren’t investigating about you,” Harry reassured him.

“Yeah, but we didn’t know that. Errors of preparation do happen sometimes. In the end, since we never heard anything more about the story, we supposed that it wasn’t our fault.”

“Yes, we rapidly ended it off afterwards,” Harry confirmed. “It was an accident.”

Neville affirmed that he didn’t have anything thrilling to talk about and started asking questions about the job of Auror. Harry told him about it and ended up asking:

“Do you have regrets?”

“Why would I have some?” Neville asked.

“You were offered a post in the Auror Office when you got your NEWTs, right?”

“That’s true. I have to admit that I hesitated. It would’ve made Grandmother so happy. But I prefer looking after plants. I feel in peace when I do that. I didn’t fight because I liked it, but because what was happening in the Year of Darkness couldn’t be tolerated. Please don’t tell my grandmother about it, please. She’d never forgive me.”

Harry promised, while wondering in the back of his head whether he liked to fight. Why had he wanted to become an Auror? Was it so important for him to be in the action? Neville had stepped back when the situation had become normal again, but Harry had stayed there where he would be the first to know if a Dark Wizard appeared. He had often had the impression that he always had bad luck, and that he was the only one who could do something, but in the end, wasn’t he putting himself into that position every time? That was what professor Snape always said. And would Dumbledore have put hopes on him if he hadn’t had that personality?

In what proportion had chance played a role in his life to bring him there where he was now?

*

After the discussion he had had with the Weasley parents, Harry had thought a lot about an eventual bringing closer of the wizarding and muggle worlds. Having grown up outside of the world of magic, he decided that he show the example. On a Saturday of February when Ginny wasn’t there, he decided to go for a walk in the surroundings of Grimmaurd Place. He invited Ron and Hermione to come with him. His friend was doubtful at first, but when Hermione insisted, he ended up following them. The boys put on old Muggle clothes that dated from their last journeys to King’s Cross. As for Hermione, she still lived at her parent’s place and therefore had a mixed wardrobe.

The suburb where they lived wasn’t very beautiful, but Hermione – who sometimes went shopping in the capital with her mother – made them take public transports and took them to more enjoyable roads. They looked at different shops and even spotted a park where small children were having fun. Hermione showed them, with the help of a map, which busses and trains to take to go to places that could possibly interest them.

Ron admitted that even though Muggles walked so quickly that one could think Death Eaters were after them and cars made the roads loud and stinky, it wasn’t too bad on this side of the city. The presence of women wearing short skirts despite the cold probably helped make it enjoyable for him. He only regretted that the huge grassy parts of the park couldn’t be used for Quidditch.

“I’ll bring you Muggle money next time, and we’ll go do some shopping,” Hermione decided in the tone that she had always used to describe them their work plans at Hogwarts.

“We know how it is,” Ron protested. “We’ve done it during the Year of Darkness.”

“Under an invisibility cloak. It doesn’t count,” their friend answered firmly.

*

The following week, Harry went to fetch Teddy one afternoon and suggested to Ginny that they take him to the Muggle park. The young girl accepted without enthusiasm to wear one of Hermione’s dresses and to accompany him.

On his side, Teddy was overjoyed to be able to run as much as he wanted, which made the people they walked by smile. Just in case, Harry had made him wear a bonnet, as the young boy had a tendency to change the colour of his hair to match that of the people he saw around him.

They found a playground and sat down on a bench, with Teddy on Harry’s lap, to permit their young friend to watch the other children play around loudly.

“Does he often see other children?” Ginny worried, noticing the child’s fascination for the spectacle in front of him and his reluctance to participate.

“I don’t know. I need to ask Andromeda. In any case, I could bring him here regularly.”

“It’s risky. If he makes unintentional magic, it’s going to cause you problems. Can you imagine the number of Muggles that will have to get their memories erased?”

Harry looked at the other parents and answered:

“Everyone is looking at their child or is busy chatting with someone else. Maybe no one will notice if a child suddenly appears at the top of a slide or who bounces when he falls. I didn’t have that many incidents, you know.”

“I suppose your Aunt didn’t really take you to the playground often,” Ginny countered.

“But Hermione probably did. Like all other Muggle-born wizards and witches. We’ll just have to make Teddy understand that he shouldn’t change his hair colour all the time.”

As if he had understood what they were talking about, Teddy ripped off his cap while breaking into laughter.

“That won’t be easy,” Ginny commented while putting it back on firmly.

*

Fifteen days later, Hermione took everyone to go buy Muggle clothes. Even Ron, who usually wasn’t especially sensitive to fashion, was surprised by the variety of clothing that they saw. On Diagon Alley, there was a small shop who sold Hogwarts students just enough to not be noticed in King’s Cross Station. According to Molly, the situation had become slightly better, but in Harry’s time the choice had been very limited. There had been uncomfortable jeans, T-shirts and shapeless jackets for the boys, as well as skirts reaching to the ankles and white bodices for the girls – in short, nothing that made one want to stay in these clothes. But when Hermione took them into a classic Muggle shop, the young Weasleys discovered a selection of tailorings, sizes and colours that left them in awe.

Most of Ginny’s reluctance melted away when she tried on a short dress that showcased her curves. The interested look that a lot of the male clients cast her probably helped a lot. Ron stopped to state that these clothes were horribly uncomfortable when his girlfriend found him well-cut denim pants and an orange sweatshirt – which had stayed his favourite colour even though he had stopped supporting the Chudley Cannons. Harry had the pleasure of finally finding jeans that actually fitted him and a jacket in which he didn’t look ridiculous. He then asked Hermione to take them to a shop for children so that he could buy some clothes for Teddy.

On the same afternoon, Hermione initiated them to cinema. Ron was delighted by the popcorn. The movie _Charlie’s Angels _– probably not chosen in function of Hermione’s personal taste – finished convincing the Weasleys.


End file.
